Wonderwall
by Apple Syder
Summary: Helga G. Pataki is back after a 7 year absence, and, much to everyone's shock, she seems...grown up. Nice. Well, at least nicer. To everyone but Arnold, that is. Arnold, angry that she likes everyone but him and convinced that no one should dislike him, sets out to change her mind and MAKE her like him.
1. Return of the Queen

A/N: I've been on a Hey Arnold kick lately. Don't judge me.

ALSO for the purposes of my lame life, I'm going off of the end of the show and not taking into account the plans for _TJM_ and _The Patakis._ Sooooo...don't judge.

Also, don't own. If I did own, this show would not have ended. Word. Yo.

Title- "Wonderwall" by Oasis

Chapter 1: Return of the Queen

Helga G. Pataki was a a rather brusque girl of sixteen with long blond hair and dark eyebrows. She was prone to wearing pink tank tops and dark sweatshirts and had, on occasion, been known to wear a silk ribbon in her hair and light pink eye-shadow. She had an affinity for school yard fights and kittens and her favorite past time was watching reality TV shows (her current favorites were _The Bachelorette_ and _Hell's Kitchen_). Her fellow high schoolers from East Side High generally paid her little attention, so as she was sitting in the back of grimy old school bus #12 on a lumpy seat, no one gave her any heed. She simply watched out the window and listened to Teri and Lenny, some rowdy boys in jerseys who were riding in front of her.

"I swear by the Jackie Robinson collectors edition card I carry around my neck that it's true." Lenny, a tall, knobbly boy with droopy brown hair and one foot that was two sizes bigger than the other, said.

"You're B.S.'n me, dude," Teri shook his head and his baby cheeks jiggled. Teri was a dark skinned boy with blue eyes and a shaved head who took up two-thirds of the bus seat. "There's no way they do that."

"Y'see, that's what I said! Until Big Jimmy saw their soccer captain crawlin' around the sidelines, lookin' for 'em."

Teri narrowed his eyes at his friend before swiveling around and looking at Helga. "Pataki, he's full of it. Tell me he's full of it."

Helga, not paying attention to their conversation in the slightest, said, "You know it, Theresa."

Teri smacked Lenny upside the head. "Man, you have a problem. Why're you tryin' to convince me they eat maggots anyway? You're disgusting."

Lenny' snickered. "You should'a seen your face go all white, dude."

"Shut yer trap, stupid, before I make _you_ eat bugs."

"Gladly, my friend. A little bit of protein is just what I need. Maybe on a sandwich with some avocado and fritos."

"Nuh-uh, there's no way I'd let you ruin avocados like that."

"You vegetarian nut job."

Helga glanced up at her two friends before shaking her head and sighing. Next to her, so skinny she could practically slip between the cracks in the seat, Agatha looked at Helga.

"You all right, Helga?"

Helga turned to the white haired, pink eyed girl next to her. "What, me? Yeah, I'm cool. Just...thinkin'."

"Well, you've been a bit...twitchy lately. Are you worried about our new school?"

"What, me? Naaah, I'm not worried. Why should I be worried? Heh heh..." Helga paused when Agatha just stared back. "C'mon, Aggie, quit it. I'm cool, no worries."

"All right." Then the wisp of a girl sat back and stared down the long isle in front of her, unblinking.

Helga turned back to the window. She was fine. It was a long time ago. She was grown up now. She was completely different. She was fine.

* * *

Arnold was a man of simplicity. He generally ran a hand through his hair, pulled on the closest shirt that smelled relatively clean, put on a baseball cap, threw his books under an arm, and was out the door with a banana by 7:15A.M. He walked to the end of his block and stood underneath the bus stop sign, watching passersby and being generally well contented with life. The yellow bus rolled up at 7:20A.M. exactly and Arnold made his way through school bus #13 (which had previously been #18, but half the 8 was flaking off) just in time for Gerald to jump from his own seat and grab the blond boy by the front of the shirt.

"Hey, man, you know what I just thought!"

Arnold, eyes wide, looked at him, trying not to fall over as the bus lurched forward.

"Isn't East Side High that school that Helga went to?" Gerald demanded.

"Yeah."

"D'ya think maybe she's comin'?"

Arnold took a seat next to his friend. "She _is_ coming."

"How do you know? Did she already call and pre-threaten you? You know, a 'I'm baaaaaaaaaack!' sort of a way?"

Arnold chuckled at Gerald's reenactment. "No, of course not. If you were paying any attention to Phoebe at all yesterday, you'd know, too."

Gerald 'tskd' and slumped back, crossing his long legs and jamming his hands into his read sweatshirt pockets. "How come we didn't think of it before?"

"Because we were too busy gloating about the East Side basketball team being split up."

"Oh, yeah, good thing, too, huh? I mean, I wanted to play them in the championships in November, 'cause, seriously, you know we could have slaughtered them. But, it's just as well. I mean, they have held the title for ten years, but, honestly, it's about time their reign ended, and what better way than for their school to end? Seems fine by me. But, hey, that's not the point! Helga Pataki's coming back to the neighborhood!"

"What?" Sid cried from across the isle after catching on to the conversation. "Helga Pataki's coming back?"

Stinky, who was sitting in the seat behind him, sandwiched between two freshmen girls, slapped his knee. "Well, how d'ya like that? Helga's comin' back?"

"Who's Helga?" One of the freshman girls asked Stinky with a bat of the eyelashes.

"Well, if she isn't the old elementary school bully, I dunno what she is."

Harold called from two seats up, "Oi, I resent that! I've mended my ways, thank you."

"We're not talkin' about you, Harold," Gerald said dryly.

"Yeah, we're talkin' about Helga Pataki." Sid said.

Rhonda, sitting next to Harold, popped her head over the seat. "Helga Pataki, tyrannical queen of the playground? Wow, we haven't seen her in ages. What _about_ Helga Pataki?"

"Apparently she's comin' back to the ol' homestead." Stinky informed.

"She's moving back?" Rhonda raised a manicured eyebrow. "I thought her family's business made the big times."

"She's not moving back," Gerald corrected, "She's comin' with the kids from East Side."

"Boy howdie, she's an East Sider!" Sid said. "How come I didn't know that?"

"Because you don't know anything, Sid." Rhonda put her nose in the air.

"I know some stuffs, prissy miss!" Sid snapped back.

Harold pointed a finger at Sid. "Hey, watch out who's girlfriend you're talkin' to, or I'll slaughter ya!"

Sid snorted. "Mended your ways my butt..."

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing!"

Gerald looked at Arnold, who had been silently watching. "How do you feel about all this, Arnold?"

"Me?" Arnold looked up, startled, when the area became silent and he saw everyone had turned to him. "I dunno. Why me?"

"Let's think, Arnold," Rhonda said with an annoyed look and began counting on her fingers. "She terrorized you, called you names, stole your stuff, hit you, made fun of you, sabotaged all your relationships, yelled at you on a daily basis, and publicly confessed her undying loathing for you regularly. Need I go on?"

"But that was all a long time ago. And besides, we left on ok terms. Don't you guys think she's probably changed?"

They looked at him before a chorus of, "Nope", "Uh-uh", "Doubt it", "That's a negative, my friend" bounced around.

"Well, it's not like we have a choice, anyway. I mean, their school burnt down. They don't have anywhere else to go."

Gerald shrugged. "For all we know, she's the one who burnt it down." This was agreed to by popular vote.

Arnold shrugged back. "Yeah, maybe." He grinned. "Maybe she hates the East High Eagles as much as we do."

"I hear that." Gerald high-fived him. "If that's true, remind me to throw a party for her."

"We'll invite the rest of the team. Bet they'd love to meet her."

"Yeah, as friendly as a cactus as she is."

"And just as cuddly."

The rest of the ride to school was occupied by conversations along the lines of whether or not Helga had taken over East Side as the queen, or what kind of psycho killers must be friends with her now, and what poor souls' lives she had ruined. Just as they were pulling up to school, Rhonda finally said what had been occupying her mind the whole way, "What _I_ really want to know is whether or not she's finally plucked that hideous eyebrow."

* * *

Phoebe Heyerdahl was a small creature who had recently taken to putting all her hair on top of her head in a messy bun and wearing long socks, plaid skirts, and lacy-looking, old fashioned jewelry. When bus #13 pulled up outside the high school, she was waiting by the gate, a sticker on her sweater that said, "Hello, My Name is Phoebe". The kids from bus #13 flooded through the gates along with the kids who were getting off buses from other neighborhoods. Arnold followed as Gerald crossed over to Phoebe.

"Hey," Gerald said, "There you are. You weren't on the bus this morning."

"Yes, I had to get here early. I'm one of the tour guides for the East Siders today."

"Oh, yeah?" He glanced around. "But where are they?"

"I suppose they've been delayed."

Arnold added helpfully, "There's construction on the free way, so maybe they're behind schedule."

"I'm sure you're quite right," Phoebe smiled her quiet smile at him.

"Soooo..." Gerald scratched what he was trying to pass off as 5 o'clock shadow. "Helga's really coming, then?"

Phoebe beamed up at him. "Isn't it exciting? It'll be just like old times, won't it?"

"Yeah, I LOVE old times." Gerald elbowed Arnold. "How come you didn't say so before, though?"

She adjusted her teal rimmed glasses at him. "Hmm? What do you mean? I told you as soon as I found out, three days ago."

"Wha, three days ago?"

"I've been talking about it all the time. Don't you remember?"

Arnold leaned toward Gerald with a, "Told ya."

Gerald shot him a dark look before smiling down at Phoebe. "Yeah, of course I remember. I meant I just can't believe we didn't know sooner. "

"Aren't you excited to see Helga?" Phoebe asked.

"Pfft, of course. Been looking forward to it!"

Arnold rolled his eyes.

"I know!" Phoebe said excitedly. "Perhaps we could all meet up for lunch! Wouldn't that be nice?"

Gerald lit up at the thought. "Hey, yeah, that's a great idea! Don't you think that's a great idea, Arnold?"

Arnold smirked at his friend. "Oh, yeah. And, just 'cause I know you missed her so much, I'll let you sit by her. The whole time."

Phoebe sighed sweetly, "Aww!", and Gerald said through gritted teeth, "Thanks, man, what a...pal."

"Anything for you."

A bell (more of a buzzer that was on its last legs and had gone all static-y) chimed from inside the school and the last stragglers wandered toward the building. Gerald and Arnold said goodbye to Phoebe and left her to herself. Arnold threw an arm around his friend's shoulder as they entered the school.

"Gerald," He began. "I believe I'm correct in saying that you are completely smitten."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about." Arnold poked him in the chest. "Someone's caught the love bug for a certain be-speckled cutie."

Gerald shrugged Arnold's arm off. "Man, shut up."

"Just sayin'. Ever since she broke up with R.J. White, you've been alternating between bashful and suave."

"R.J. White," Gerald grumbled. "Man, I hate that guy. He's all uptight and a know-it-all, and, seriously, who does he think he is, wearing those little bow ties like he's some kind of genius? He knows he just looks stupid. Stupid."

"I seem to remember you liking him just fine before—"

"Nut-uh, don't you go there, I never liked that prissy wuss!"

"Sure, Gerald. Whatever you say. Smitten."

"Shut up."

The pair made their way through the high school, avoiding expertly flying paper airplanes and text books that had been scattered on the ground and seniors who shoved younger kids aside as they walked. They climbed to level two, ignoring a couple who was making out in the stairwell, and found themselves in their first period class, where kids were sitting on desks, and the teacher seemed to have fallen asleep at her own. Arnold sat behind Gerald right next to the row of windows that looked over the school yard.

The bell rang again and most of the kids got into their seats as the teacher sat up and readjusted her glasses. She taught post colonial American history, a subject that really couldn't have been more boring, until she made it so. She was deaf in one ear and rarely looked up from her book, so, after roll was called, most students who wanted to continue certain conversations or generally just slack off were at perfect liberty to do so.

"So how you going to ask her out?" Arnold asked in a lower tone.

Gerald glanced over his shoulder at him. "What do you mean? Is there more than one way?"

"Well, yeah. Are you gonna do something romantic or are you just gonna ask her?"

"Something romantic?" His voice cracked. "Is she expecting something romantic? I'm not that great at romantic stuff. What's wrong with just asking her? Is that not good enough? Oh, man, I don't need this extra pressure." He rubbed his forehead.

As Arnold was chuckling at Gerald's torment when a movement out the window caught his eye. He looked down on the street as two big yellow buses parked in front of the school gates. The girl behind Arnold gasped and said, "Look! The East Siders are here!"

A murmur rose around the closest students as they leaned to see out the windows. The doors had opened and a steady stream of high school students were filing out. Arnold recognized Phoebe and a few other kids from his own school beginning to rally them up into little groups. The trickle coming from the buses slowed and the first one seemed to run out of kids to expel. The second one spat out its last two guys and a girl with hair that glowed white in the sun, and just when Arnold was about to be very confused, a tall girl with long blond hair hanging straight down her back stepped off the bus. He couldn't make out her face from where he was, but she was unmistakable.

"Man, I don't see her anywhere," Gerald said.

"What? Dude, she's right there."

"Where?"

"There! She's the one hugging your girlfriend."

"Phoebe's not my—ah! That's her!"

The teacher, who had finally realized that the entire class had stood up in order to get a look at the East Side High schoolers, snapped, "Back in your seats, all of you! Pay attention!"

The room quieted to the gentle whispering of excited and curious students as the teacher continued her lecture. Gerald shook his head in wonder and said, "Man, look at that hair. Maybe you're right, Arnold. Maybe she has changed."

"Maybe," Arnold muttered before turning back to the classroom with a half smile.

* * *

The East Side High schoolers were considerably underwhelmed by their new school. East Side High was in a, well, more affluent part of Hillwood; 45 city blocks from P.S. 118. East Side High, while not being terribly larger, was noticeably less rundown. These lockers were covered in graffiti, the floors had spots that were suspiciously sticky, and the foundation in the ceiling was seriously questionable. For most of the new students as they followed their tour guides, the school seemed grubby and dingy, but for Helga it had a strange feeling of homeyness to it. She had been so lucky as to end up with Phoebe as a guide, but she had been separated from Agatha and Teri in the process. Lenny, thankfully, loomed next to her, lurping along with a quiet whistle.

"This is the copy center," Phoebe was saying to the group as they paused outside it. Helga usually stopped paying attention after the first five seconds and moved on to more important things.

Currently, she was agitated. She was less careful about hiding it now that Agatha wasn't nearby to watch her with wide eyes, and Lenny rarely knew what was going on around him, which most would suspect to be because he couldn't see with his hair always in his eyes, but Helga knew to be because he was rather air headed. Thus, with Phoebe also busy, she was free to reflect.

It had been a long time since Helga had been in this part of town. The last time had been a year ago, when her family had picked up Phoebe on their way camping. She had always been grateful that Phoebe and she had kept in touch for so long, and loved to hear stories from her about what was going on with all her old school mates. She never said so, but the only reason she ever asked about anyone was to hear about Arnold.

Arnold, Arnold, Arnold.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at herself.

It had been a long time since she had been...well, head over heels for the football head. She hadn't seen him in four years, other than yearbook photos that Phoebe had. The last time she'd seen him in person she had been visiting Phoebe for a day during summer vacation, and, per Phoebe's suggestion, had walked down to the baseball field to say hello to the ol' gang. When they had gotten there, Helga and Phoebe had stopped by the fence and watched Arnold slide into home plate before being hugged and slapped and cheered. Phoebe had asked Helga if she wanted to go say hi, but Helga had shaken her head. They had left.

That was it. She had seen them, seen him, and she was happy to, but then...she wasn't apart of them anymore. She didn't belong there. They were probably happy she was gone. He probably was. No one had called or sent letters, and Phoebe had said they'd stopped asking about her. That he'd stopped asking. He had moved on.

She had removed the locket with his picture from around her neck and put it in the shrine in the back of her closet. The shrine was smaller than it had been—the statue of him she'd had to artfully dispose of before she moved so her parents wouldn't see it. But the candles hadn't been lit in ages, and, in fact, she hadn't even looked at it until the day she'd heard she'd be going to the same school as him again. She had just pushed aside her clothes and looked, and then shut the door. For years she had waited for the day where she'd have to hear about his new girlfriend, Little Miss Perfect, or someone like her. She had wondered if Phoebe hadn't mentioned anything just to spare her feelings, but, well, now Helga was here. _Guess I'll find out first hand, _she thought.

It made her shutter, and then she scolded herself.

Time and distance had helped ebb the obsession. Switching schools had given her a fresh start, and she found she had discarded the old Helga Geraldine Pataki for a new skin. She had never forgotten him, and still often thought of him fondly. It was just...well, awkward. Such a large majority of her life had been devoted to him that now it was a bit nerve wracking. She was nervous to see him again. What would he think of her now? She wanted to show him, to show all of them, that she was better than they thought she was. _Ha, I've done just fine without you. So there._

Helga jumped when someone brushed her elbow.

"You all right, Helga?"

She looked up at Carlos Moze, the tall, dark and handsome East Sider. She snorted. "Sure, thing, el Capitano."

Behind her, Lenny had noticed Moze as well. "Yo, Captain. How's it goin'?"

Moze shrugged. "Cool, I guess. At least the school's not on fire."

"Tsk, ya, no kidding." Helga said. "Although maybe someone _should_ set fire to it, if you ask me."

Moze laughed."Yeah, maybe."

"I dunno, guys." Lenny said. "Looks like good maggot breeding ground to me."

"Maggots?" Moze asked.

"Seriously, Len. You're back on that?" Helga raised an eyebrow.

"When in Rome, right?"

"Romans don't eat maggots, Len."

"Why would anyone?" Moze asked. He was distracted from an answer as they passed an open doorway that led into the gym. "Lady and gentleman, I present to you our new home!"

Helga and Lenny paused to look inside.

"Woot!" Lenny said to hear it echo. "Can't wait to burn some rubber."

"Lacquered floors, hoops...I guess it'll do." Helga said lightly.

"I'm sure the janitor is honored, princess." Moze tilted his head toward her. "But not nearly as honored as the mighty Hedgehogs' basketball team."

"Oh, yeah," Helga snickered. "I bet they're wetting their pants they're so excited to get new players from East Side. This whole integration thing probably has 'em all riled up like a bunch of little girls."

The three hung at the back of the group and talked about basketball and the rest of the team. Since East Side had burnt down, the students had been separated into two groups and sent to schools that could accommodate them. The majority of the team had ended up in the other half of the student body, while only the Team Captain, Lenny, Teri, and Helga, had ended up as Hedgehogs. The rest were Lions.

Phoebe's tour and orientation ended at ten to noon and as she dismissed them for lunch she caught up with Helga just as she was saying goodbye to Moze.

"Hey, Phebes, great guide you are," Helga said with a friendly punch to Phoebe's shoulder.

"Oh, thanks. Listen, um, I was wondering if you'd like to join us for lunch?"

Helga paused. "Who's 'us'?"

"Me, Gerald, and Arnold. Oh, and your friends are welcome, too, of course!"

"Uhhh...you know, I'd love to, but I think we, we definitely have plans. You know, gotta wander the school, get used to it and all. Heh heh."

"Oh, would you like us to go with you? I'm sure we could—"

"NO!" She toned it down when she saw the shock on Phoebe's face. "No, uh, we'd just, you know, like some time to...get...adjusted. Yep. Really, Phebes, go on ahead. Next time, ok?"

"All right, Helga..." Phoebe hesitantly moved away, and Helga smiled and waved every time she turned back to look.

As soon as Phoebe disappeared behind a corner, Helga rounded on the nearest locker and smacked her forehead into it. Several times. _Just be cool, Pataki! You're freaking out for no reason, no one else cares this much..._

"Excuse me, that's my locker..."

Helga looked down at the freshman darkly. "Come back later, kid."

He left. Quickly.

She rammed her head into the locker again.

"Whenever you're done, Pataki," Lenny said, inspecting his fingernails, "I'm hungry for some spaghetti and maggot-balls."

* * *

They did not eat spaghetti and maggot-balls, much to Lenny's disappointment. They did, however, eat some very...interesting tasting tuna fish sandwiches and "raisin" pudding from the cafeteria. They ate outside, behind the school that opened up onto the blacktop, where groups of girls were sitting around on lunch tables, boys were skateboarding back and forth, and various sports were being played.

Helga sat in between Agatha and Teri and picked at her tuna sandwich. She was far more interested, however, in scoping out the students passing them by. Most of them she didn't recognize at all, but when she saw someone she used to know, she'd elbow Agatha (who'd say, "Helga, you know I bruise easy,") and point them out. Nadine passed by, and Helga almost hadn't recognized her since her hair had been let down and straightened. Stinky she finally noticed playing basketball on the court with some other guys, and a gaggle of girls cheered and called out his name whenever he got the ball. Chocolate boy was sitting in the shade, eating a radish salad and reading a very heavy text book with a few other boys. A rather attractive guy wearing Aeropostale and with black hair swooped back in a fifty's style passed by, hand in hand with a cute red headed girl. When he saw Helga he stopped dead, and said, "Hey, Helga, long time no see." It had taken him another ten minutes to convince her he was Curly. "_Curly_? The geeky little dipwad who used to stalk Rhonda? No way that's you! You're a babe!" "Well, thanks, Helga." and his girlfriend agreed. Helga's mind slightly blown, she left her friends to toss her tray in the trash and process her new information.

"Helga Pataki, is that _you_?"

Helga turned to find a girl with streaked long black hair, thick make-up, and a red sun dress walking up to her.

"It _is _you! Well, my goodness, aren't we just so grown up?" The girl eyed her up and down, and the deja vu of it made Helga say, "Rhonda!"

Rhonda winked at her. "One and the fabulous same. So, tell me, Helga, how _are _you?"

"Uh, can't complain, I guess," She fingered her old sweatshirt self-consciously as Rhonda, with her lip liner and cute platform shoes, smiled up at her.

"I'm so glad," Rhonda gushed before she turned to the side and called out to a boy nearby. "Harold! Harold, come here, come say hello to Helga!" He didn't turn around. "_Harold_!" Rhonda barked. The guy turned, hiked his pants up, and sauntered over to them.

"What is it?" He said in a deep bass voice.

Helga stared up at him, at his 5 o'clock shadow (and it was only 12:25PM) and well toned biceps as he slung an arm around Rhonda.

"Harold, look, it's Helga Pataki, back in the neighborhood."

"Helga?" Harold raised his eyebrows. "Whoa, didn't even recognize you. What happened to your caterpillar brow, caterpillar brow?" Rhonda smacked his arm playfully.

Helga's eye twitched, but, upon seeing he was completely sincere, she reminded herself that Harold was just an idiot, who had always been an idiot, and would probably always be an idiot.

Rhonda, as if struck by a brilliant idea, grabbed Helga's arm, "Oh, Helga you must, you simply must, let us show you around! I am certain that I can introduce you to all the most important people in school."

"No, thanks, Rhonda, I've already had a tour." Meeting a bunch of Rhonda's prissy friends was the last thing she wanted to do.

"No, no, no! This is completely different. Are those your friends?" Rhonda paused and looked them all up and down as they walked over. Her nose crinkled slightly, but then she said, "Hello! My name is Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, and this is Harold Berman, my boyfriend." She offered Teri her hand, which he took gingerly. "How do you do?"

"Fine," Teri said, dropping her hand. "Name's Teri. This is Lenny and Agatha. You friends of Helga's?"

"We most certainly are! And we were just about to show her around the school, and you must all come as well."

Teri looked at Agatha, who just stared at Rhonda; Lenny, who was admiring the limited edition, signed Jackie Robinson card that he kept in a laminated pouch hanging around his neck; and Helga, who shook her head. Teri shrugged. "Sure, we'll come."

"Wonderful!" Rhonda spun around and led the way back into the school. Helga pinched Teri in the arm and was satisfied to hear an, "Ow! What?"

Rhonda made good on her promise of a completely different tour. They went down all the same hallways, but as they went, Rhonda stopped and introduced Helga to every well dressed, rich looking snob, and it all made Helga very uncomfortable. She only became interested when they ran into a tall, curly haired, red headed kid who was being followed by some thespian girls in berets and tights.

"Eugene!" Rhonda called and he paused.

"Oh, hey, Rhonda," He said.

"Eugene, you remember Helga Pataki. Helga, Eugene is one of the most _popular_ boys in school and he's only a sophomore. He's the lead in all the school plays and he's in a _band_. Do you remember the, 'Don't sweat it, you'll regret it, try natural musk scent' commercials?" Rhonda gestured to Eugene proudly, as if all his fame were due to her.

Eugene blinked at Helga. "Well, well! It is Helga. Long time no see!"

"Same." She smiled at him, hands in her pockets. "I saw your commercial—it's pretty good. Well, for an odor advertisement. Way to be."

Eugene smiled. "Well, thanks, Helga."

"Sure." She didn't say more, because just then one of his thespian lackeys glared at her before touching Eugene's arm and saying in a deep, arty voice, "Eugene, dahling, you promised to perform Hamlet's soliloquy for the underclassmen before lunch was over."

"Indeed, I did, Roxanne. Well, Helga, good seeing you again. Drop by the drama department sometime and say hi." And then he whisked away, singing "Goodnight, goodnight!", the beatnik girls on his trail.

"Everyone's so different or grown up or somethin'," Helga said as they stopped a little ways from a drinking fountain for Agatha. Agatha could drink like a fish, so currently the boys were all leaning against a wall, saying, "S'up, dude," to anyone Harold knew. Rhonda and Helga stood a little further away.

"Oh, I don't think we've changed that much," Rhonda said, inspecting her manicure. "You've changed a lot, though. I thought it was wonderful what you said to Eugene, about his commercial."

Helga shrugged. "I was just being nice."

"Exactly."

Well. Rhonda thought she was nice. Helga felt pride fill her chest. _Ha, that's right, Helga Pataki is a good person. Who's the queen? That's right, it's me. Bet you didn't see that one coming, suckers._

_ I wonder if Arnold will think—_

_ No, you don't, shut up._

_ Right._

Agatha finished her drink and took up her place at Helga's left shoulder, where she usually hovered. Rhonda, taking real notice of the little albino, flashed her teeth at her. "So, Agatha, how long have you and Helga been friends?"

Agatha said quietly, "About four years."

"Really? How'd you guys meet? Did Helga steal your lunch money?"

"Hey!" Helga said indignantly.

Agatha looked surprised. "What? No, Helga would _never_ do something like that. She's the kindest person I know."

_Oh, Aggie, bless your little heart!_ Helga thought fondly.

"I used to get picked on a lot by the boys at our school. When Helga came, she told them all to leave me alone or she'd bury them alive."

"Erk! Eh heh..." _Spoke too soon._

_ "_They didn't bother me anymore after that." Agatha gave Helga a proud smile.

Rhonda patted Agatha on the head. "Well, isn't that the sweetest?" She gushed.

Helga smiled at her tiny friend. Agatha had that effect on a lot of people. She seemed more like a cute little bunny that needed protecting rather than a human girl. Helga hadn't really meant to be friends with her—she'd just gotten mad when those guys were picking on her—but Agatha had followed her around ever since, and Helga hadn't minded.

The buzzer went off, signaling the end of lunch and Rhonda said, "You East Siders are supposed to go to the second half of the day, right? I'm sure no one would be more fit to help you find your classes than _moi_."

"Yeah, ok. Wait...ahhhhh...shoot."

"What's wrong?" Rhonda asked.

Agatha looked worried. "You forgot your schedule, didn't you, Helga? I saw you didn't get it from the front office. Should we go get it?"

"Nah, I don't wanna make you guys late. Rhonda, will you get her to class?"

"Sure thing, Helga, leave it to Miss Lloyd. What class do you have?" Rhonda put an arm around Agatha and steered her in the other direction.

Helga passed by Teri and Lenny, who were making Harold laugh by telling him about past sports games that had gone wrong. "Hey, you lugs, the bell rang." She said to them.

"Sure thing, Pataki," Lenny said.

"Where's Agatha?" Teri looked around.

"She went to class, as should you. See ya, Harold."

Harold, who'd evidently been hanging out with Rhonda too long, said, "_Caio_, Pataki."

Helga shook her head and walked to where she thought Phoebe had said the front office was. The halls slowly emptied of students as she went. It had been a decent day, so far. She'd successfully avoided Arnold, although she wasn't entirely sure why she was trying to. Well, soon she'd see him and then she could stop worrying and get on with life. It was no big deal.

She rounded a corner to where she remembered the office being, and stopped half way down the hall. There was no office, just lockers. "Frak. Now I'm lost."

* * *

Arnold made his way downstairs from the library, where he had disappeared to at the beginning of lunch. Phoebe had met up with him and Gerald outside the cafeteria, where Phoebe had told them Helga was otherwise engaged. Arnold had, rather slyly, he thought, told Phoebe that he had some homework to catch up on, and she and Gerald should go on without him. Gerald owed him.

And he told him so, as soon as he saw him again.

"Yeah, yeah," Gerald said. "Thanks."

"So, how was it?"

Gerald looked bashful and smiley and shrugged. "It was, ya know. Lunch. Just talked about...stuff."

"Yeah, stuff, stuff. You ask her out?"

"What? Dude, no! I wasn't gonna ask her out over a tray of tuna fish surprise. I swear, any second it was gonna crawl off my plate and attack me."

Arnold chuckled.

They paused outside his next class and joined the group of Rhonda, Harold, Sid, and Curly who were standing in a circle in the hall.

"Hey, guys, what're you talkin' about?" Arnold asked.

"Helga Pataki," Sid said excitedly.

"Yeah?" Gerald said, "You guys seen her?"

"I haven't," Sid looked disappointed.

"_I _have," Rhonda answered. "We spent practically all of lunch together."

"Reeaaally..." Gerald looked interested. "And? How'd that go?"

"Quite delightful, I thought. She was very well behaved. Didn't you think so, Harold?"

"Yeah, great," Harold said. "Did you know that East Side took state in three different divisions last year? And their football team won the Golden Arrow."

Gerald made a face. "They won the Golden Arrow? I thought you had to be a Level 5 school to enter for the Golden Arrow."

"Guess not. It's probably because of Ziggy J. Fox. I mean, when he's your coach, you probably get special treatment."

"_The_ Ziggy J. Fox?" Gerald and Arnold said at the same time. Rhonda looked at Curly and he shrugged.

"The football star?" Sid whistled. "Whoa-ho, those East Siders got some mula. How come we didn't hear about them getting Ziggy J. Fox?"

"New this year, apparently. Then, ya know, the school went ka-boom, and he went to California. That's what Teri said, anyway."

"Who's Teri?" Arnold asked.

"One of Helga's friends from East Side. I think he's on the basketball team, with that other tall guy."

"Basketball player?" Sid said, "Man, do you think he knows Ziggy J.—"

"_Anyway_!" Rhonda interrupted loudly. The boys turned to her and she rolled her eyes. "Yes, thank you Harold. Anyway, we thought Helga was quite nice and her friends from East Side were really quite civil. Didn't you think they were, Curly?"

Gerald put up a hand, "Wait a minute, wait a minute. Did you say Helga was nice?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I did," She widened her eyes at Gerald. "What a good listener you are! Yes, I said she was nice, you dork. She was very polite to me, and Eugene, and Sarah Xanthe, and Timothy Goodwin, and you know how important _he_ is, and her little friend seemed quite attached to her."

"True," Curly said. "I ran into Helga outside, and she was real friendly. Said I looked like a babe." He winked at Rhonda, who smiled, and Harold stepped in between them.

Gerald was in awe. "Helga Pataki, friendly? I'd love to see that. Maybe she has changed, huh, Arnold?" He turned to his friend. "Why do _you_ look so smug? It's not like you had anything to do with it."

Arnold shrugged and gave him a "that's what you think" look as he turned into his classroom. Behind him he heard Gerald ask the others as they broke to go to their own classes, "He didn't have anything to do with it, right?"

He did not, in fact, have anything to do with it. He liked to think to himself that he did, though. He'd always thought she was a decent person, always felt like she was more than she seemed. He made his way to the back row of the classroom and took his seat just as the bell rang, and there was only one word for how he was feeling when class started—triumphant. Hearing that he'd been right made him feel like he'd just won a bet where everyone was against him. He couldn't wait to see her, how she was now, and he would find it very difficult not to rub it in. She used to insist so avidly that she was a horrible person who enjoyed being horrible. He wondered if she even remembered any of that; it had been nearly seven years ago.

Their relationship had always been, at best, rocky. But towards the end, during the few weeks before fifth grade when her family up and moved twenty miles to the furthest reaches of Hillwood, they'd been friends. Well, friendlier. Well, she'd stopped yelling at him. It was a more peaceful co-habitation, at the very least. He'd asked Phoebe now and again how she was doing, and after a while, he didn't even have to ask anymore. Whenever there was a spare chance, Phoebe would tell him about how Helga said this, or Helga did that. He'd suspected how she had changed over the years and when he found she'd be coming back, he'd been, to say the least, very interested. He hadn't tried to convince anyone else of his theory, and had much preferred to just let it pan out. Now that most everyone had seen her, though, he wanted to see her for himself.

Just as he was wondering when exactly he'd get the chance, the door opened, interrupting the teacher in the middle of his sentence about civil wars in Russia. Arnold sat up straighter when a tall blond stepped into the room.

"Uh, hi," Helga said, "Sorry I'm late, I got lost." She crossed over to the teacher and gave him a slip of paper.

"Oh, yes, of course," The teacher looked at the paper, "Ms. Pataki. Everyone, this is Helga, say hello." There was a few reluctant murmurs from the front row as the teacher, overly enthusiastic as he always was, went to his desk to scribble on some papers. "You're from East Side, then, Helga?"

"Yep." Helga shuffled her weight, avoiding the eyes of the thirty-plus students who were looking at her.

Like Arnold. He liked her hair like that. He sort of missed the pig tails, but he liked it this way. It was long and shiny. She was wearing a pink shirt and a gray sweatshirt that she had her hands in the pockets of. She'd grown into a proper girl, now, with curves and everything, and he couldn't tell from the back of the class, but she might have been wearing make-up. She looked a bit tense, but she still had a strong presence that said, "Do I look like I care?" She pushed her hair behind her ear and Arnold thought he saw a pair of red heart earrings. Bottom line, she looked good.

"So, Helga," The teacher leaned against his desk and squinted at Helga, like she was a new species. "Tell us about yourself."

"What?" Now she looked a little panicked.

"What makes Helga Pataki...Helga Pataki?"

"Uhhh...DNA and operant conditioning?"

Arnold smiled and he heard a couple quiet chuckles.

The teacher just nodded seriously. "Indeed. Indeed. And tell me, Helga, why did you choose North Eastern Pre-colonial Civilization and Culture?"

"Excuse me?"

"This class."

Helga looked at the blackboard and a few maps on the walls. "Is that what this class is?"

A few more chuckles from the front row. Arnold felt proud. As if he had anything to do with it.

"Ah, fantastic!" The teacher clapped his hands. "You don't know anything about it! That means you are a perfect mind for molding, a white canvas. Shall we begin to paint you?"

She took a step back and eyed him with distrust. "You throw any paint at me, bub, I swear I'm leaving."

This time the teacher laughed. "Oh, my dear. Now, where shall we seat you?" He scanned the room. "How about the seat behind Arnold. Arnold, raise your hand."

Arnold did and Helga turned straight to him. Their eyes locked before the teacher nudged her forward. "Go, little caterpillar. There is your cocoon."

Arnold put his hand down and watched Helga walk down the isle toward him. She had dropped her eyes to the floor but just as she reached him he said to her, "Hey, Helga."

She didn't even look at him, just walked past and took her seat. He turned around but she was rustling around in her book bag. He turned back to the front as the teacher started animatedly describing the gore of the Russian battle technique. Maybe she hadn't recognized him. Did he look that different? Did she forget him? There was no way she was just _shy_. No matter how much she had changed, Helga Pataki could not be _shy_.

Just as he was about to turn around to reintroduce himself, her voice reached him quietly but clearly:

"Hey, Arnold."

* * *

A/N: So...yep. What'd you think? Good? Worth it? Terrible? Review if you'd like to read more. ;)


	2. Fight or Flight

A/N: Guys, thank you for all the reviews! You're so awesome. :)

Craig Bartlett owns, yo.

Chapter 2: Fight or Flight

Helga had a problem.

Well, she had more than one, but this was a very specific problem. And as she half walked, half jogged around the corners of the school halls she was painfully aware of it.

_Something is wrong with me. Seriously, seriously wrong with me. _"Look out, kid!" _What am I even doing? I look like a crazy person. _"Excuse me, but get out of the way!" _Who am I kidding. I am a crazy person. Ooh! Trash cans._

She dove behind three trash cans that were standing in a corner, full of recyclable papers and cardboards. She leaned against them, panting. _Did he see me?_

She peeked between two cans, but there was no one she recognized in the hallway beyond. "Phew..." She slumped back.

It was the morning of Helga's third day at her new school and already her plan of casually seeing Arnold and then moving on with life had failed. Why? Well it was simple, really: because that first day, when she'd come into his class and he had smiled at her, he had been _way_ cuter than was, you know, probably humanly possible. He was taller, and lean, and his shoulders were wide, and it even seemed like he'd grown into his head a little. Not to mention he rocked the t-shirt and jeans look. She told herself it didn't happen, but her heart had probably skipped just a little bit. But she thought that was ok. So he was cute, so were lots of guys. No big deal. Then after school that day as she was running out to the bus, she had bumped into him. Well, slammed into him, sending them both sprawling. And he'd laughed and apologized and offered her a hand to help her up, and her mind had gone blank. She'd just...stopped functioning. After a minute her instincts kicked in, saying, _Danger! Danger! Get out! _Her fight or flight responses activated, and in her confusion to choose one, she picked both. She'd said, "Sheesh, football head, watch where you're going, why don't you, you clutz!" And then she'd stood up, and run away. Yep.

So, this led to the reason she was now avoiding him: she did not want to relapse.

She did not want to be _that girl _again, the one she used to be. She was grown up, now. She had control of herself, and she hated the feeling of being helpless. She did not want to be the insane, obsessive chick who verbally (and sometimes physically) abused him, and then later had romantic fantasies and worshiped him at a creepy alter made of his old gum! She wanted to be herself, her new self, but, apparently, around Arnold it just... did weird things to her head. So, she'd decided to avoid him as much as possible. The less he was around, the better. And that made it possible to prepare herself for the few times they _did_ have to interact, like during North Eastern Cultures class. She could be civil but distant to him at the beginning of class, and then, whenever he turned around, she could pretend she was asleep. After class, she just made sure to be the first one out the door. So far this plan was working. The problems came whenever she ran into him in the hall. He'd waved at her once, and she waved back before turning in the other direction. If she saw him coming down the hall towards her, she ducked into the nearest classroom and waited for him to pass. It felt silly for her to be going to so much trouble, but she didn't want the alternative of regression.

Which led her to her current position. How running every time she saw him and hiding behind three garbage cans wasn't regressing was besides the point.

She froze when a voice said just over her head, "Well, well, what do we have here?" She turned around to see Gerald and Phoebe leaning over the trash cans. "The new janitor?" Gerald grinned at her.

"Good morning, Helga." Phoebe said. "What are you doing back there?"

"Oh, uh, ya know...recycling stuff." She stood up. "So, uh, how're you guys?"

"Pretty good," Gerald said. "How are you, Helga? I haven't had the chance to talk to you, yet. How've your first few days of school been?"

"Great! Yeah, they've been very...educating."

"Gettin' used to our Hedgehog ways?"

"Oh, you bet ya. Gettin' my hedgehog on."

They stood awkwardly for a minute.

"So today you're comin' to basketball practice, right?" Gerald said.

"So I am." Helga agreed.

Gerald gestured to Phoebe. "Someone tells me you're pretty good."

"Me? Pfft, nah. I'm ok."

"You're great, Helga." Phoebe insisted.

"Either way, it'll be interesting having a girl on the team. We were talkin' to the other guys, and I won't lie, some of 'em are a little hesitant about having a girl around. Don't worry, though, Arnold and I convinced 'em you could hold your own. Can't wait for you guys to show us some of your moves." He held up a fist for her to bump.

She calmed down enough to say, "Ditto" and bumped it. He chuckled and told Phoebe he'd see her at lunch before walking away.

The girls watched him go in silence before Helga jerked her thumb in his direction and asked, "So, you gonna hit that, huh?"

Phoebe turned crimson. "Helga!"

"Kidding, kidding."

They turned and walked down the hall since their first period classes were in the same direction. The only class they had together, much to Phoebe's disappointment, was pottery. She had tried to get Helga transferred into some of her classes, but considering they were all advanced and honors classes, she had failed.

"Helga," Phoebe began lightly. "Wasn't it you I saw running away from us this morning?"

Helga blushed. "I wasn't running! I mean, what do you mean? When?"

Phoebe looked up at her with a sly look. "Were you running from Arnold?"

"Pfft, no. Arnold was with you? I didn't see him. Why would I run from Arnold?"

"Yesterday he said he saw you after school but it looked like you ran away."

"I was _not _running away, I just didn't want to be late for the bus, ok?"

"Ok." She dropped it. They reached a fork where they had to part ways, and when her friend was gone, Helga rubbed her face and groaned.

* * *

"She's avoiding me."

Gerald squinted in the sun as he looked up at Arnold, who was standing over him. "Who's avoiding you?"

"Helga."

"Helga's avoiding you? What makes you say that?"

Arnold sat next to him at the picnic table where Gerald was waiting for Phoebe during lunch. "I just bumped into her in the cafeteria and tried to talk to her, but she just said she was busy and left."

"Sounds like she was busy, not avoiding you."

"When I say she left, I mean, she _left_. She was goin' so fast I'm pretty sure she's half way to New York by now."

"She was in a hurry."

"You know that class I have with her? She always gets there just before the bell rings, and she's always the first one out. And yesterday I saw her across the blacktop, and she hid behind that big friend of hers. She _literally_ hid from me."

"It was hot. Maybe she was just trying to get some shade."

"Yeah, maybe, but it seems like every time I try to talk to her she seems to suddenly be going in the other direction. It just seems like she's avoiding me, is all."

"You're being paranoid. It all sounds normal to me. She's only been here three days, Arnold. I'm sure she's just getting used to stuff, it's got nothing to do with you. Don't worry about it. 'Sides, what do you care if she is avoiding you?"

"Well, I dunno. I just thought since she's new she might like to see a friendly face once in a while, but she's making it awfully difficult for me to be that friendly face. Besides, no one has avoided me before—why should she avoid me?"

"Did you say something to make her mad or anything?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, maybe she just doesn't like you. I mean, she never used to."

"No, that can't be it. She used to hate everyone else, too, and now she's all chummy with _them_."

"Hey, it happens sometimes. Some people are super nice and yet they just kinda seem to rub you wrong. Maybe you're like that to Helga, even after all this time."

"Hmm...Maybe. But she's not that kinda girl any more, I don't think. I mean, Phoebe's told me stories about her over the last few years, and I see her hanging out with her friends, or with some of our friends, and she's nice and friendly and funny. And I just don't think she'd be the kind of person who doesn't like someone for no reason." He looked at Gerald, who was giving him a funny look. "What?"

"Nothin'. Well, she can't avoid you forever. The East Siders are comin' to practice today—_then_ she'll have to talk to you."

* * *

Arnold sat on the bleachers, a ball between his feet, the rest of the team scattered around him in gold, brown and orange jerseys that marked a Hedgehog. Gerald sat next to him, seeing how long he could spin a ball on each of his fingers. Stinky sat on Arnold's other side, stretching his legs out and taking up three rows by himself.

These were the Varsity and Jr. Varsity teams, and combined there were seventeen boys between ages fifteen and eighteen. Arnold and Stinky were J.V., but Gerald was Varsity. He was the only sophomore on the Varsity team, and most likely would be captain their senior year. That is, if Wolfgang didn't get held back.

The huge, crew-cut junior was vice captain for the Varsity team. Wolfgang spent most of his time shadowing the actual captain, a surprisingly short but wicked fast Japanese kid, or shouting orders at the younger players. His favorite thing to do was follow Arnold down the court, shouting in his ear, in hopes of distracting him from making the shot. Arnold made it every time._ Sa-wish_.

Currently, Wolfgang was standing next to the captain, Itchy (who's real name was Yue Ichihama-soshima), while he talked to Carlos Moze, the East Side Eagles' senior captain. Teri and Lenny sat a little apart from the other boys in their Eagle's jerseys, Teri yawning and rolling his shoulders, and Lenny blowing large bubbles with his gum.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom, er somethin'?" Stinky asked in his southern drawl.

"What?" Arnold said.

"You keep lookin' at the door, and I was wonderin' if you were waitin' for a chance to hit the stalls."

He admitted that he had, indeed, stolen a few glances at the gym doors, but they had yet to give him what he wanted. Currently, the only thing going in and out of them was Coach Beezus, a very loud man who looked more like a gorilla than anything else. He was carrying in equipment, cones and balls and tape and such, and he was doing it himself because he didn't trust (in his words), "the no good sons of guns who found it mighty amusing to steal civic property from a public institute of education".

"No, I don't have to go to the bathroom." Arnold replied.

"Then what're you so jumpy about? You look jumpier than a fox trapped in a hen house."

"He's waiting for Helga," Gerald said helpfully. Arnold nudged him just enough to make him drop the ball.

Stinky nodded. "Ah, yeah, I can see why."

Arnold looked at him.

"You're worried about havin' a girl on the team, too, aren't ya? Well, can't say I don't blame you. But I think Helga Pataki's butch enough to handle it, don't you?"

"I wouldn't say she's butch, Stinky. But I think she'll do just fine on the team."

"I sure hope so. Just so long as she doesn't get underfoot and trip any of us men up. Girls are so little, I always seem to be trippin' on them. An' speak of the devil, here she is now."

Across the gymnasium Helga entered mostly unnoticed. Her hair had been pulled back and she was wearing a purple and black Eagle's jersey with matching basketball shorts and shoes. She stopped just inside the door and looked at the group of boys in front of her, and Arnold could have sworn she had looked directly at him. After a second she started across, but she didn't get more than ten feet before Beezus noticed her and called her over to him.

The coach had a loud voice that carried, even when he was trying to be quiet. As it was, the boys couldn't quite make out what he was saying, since it just sounded like a string of loudness rather than actual words, but even they could hear when he said, "_You're_ Pataki?"

"Uht-oh," Gerald said.

"Didn't someone tell coach about her?" Arnold asked.

"Yeah, but I don't think he caught on to the fact that she isn't a guy 'til just now."

A few more boys turned to see what the commotion was about, as Beezus crossed his arms and shook his head, and Helga looked frustrated as she spoke and gestured toward the team.

"All right," Arnold said, swatting Gerald's shoulder. "Come on." He stood up.

"What?" Gerald said, "Me? Where we goin'?"

"Yes, you, come on. We gotta go talk to him."

"All right, then." Gerald stood, but just before they began down the bleachers, Carlos Moze jogged across the gym and stopped in front of Beezus and Helga. He joined in on the conversation, hands on his hips, looking first at one then the other. This went on for a few minutes, Moze standing next to Helga and pleading her case as she got more and more frustrated and the coach got more and more stubborn. All of a sudden, the three were silent. Beezus and Helga glared at each other until all at once Helga spun around and stalked out of the gym, the slamming door echoing behind her.

Arnold frowned and said, "Hey!"

Gerald said, "Man, that ain't cool. I can't believe he kicked her out."

"S'pose it was just too much for the man to handle," Stinky shook his head.

Moze walked back across the gym, Beezus behind him, and the coach said to the boys, "There's just no room for a girl on this team. Says so in the rule book. This is a man's sport, which is why, in my opinion, the girls' team was cut from East Side as well as this school in the first place."

Gerald leaned toward Arnold, "But wasn't she on the boys' team at East Side, anyway?"

Arnold, frowning at his coach, nodded.

Beezus continued. "Besides, I've got enough little girls to worry about. All right, all you, let's see what—where do you think you're going?"

Moze, who had slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his backpack, turned to look at Beezus. "We're a team," He said, "You get all of us, or none of us. Isn't that right, Teri?"

Teri had also picked up his things. He stood on the bleacher in front of him and said, "Oh Captain, my Captain, I'll follow you anywhere." He made his way off the bleachers, saying over his shoulder, "Let's go, Lenny."

Lenny, who was still sitting, said, "But I can't get into college if I don't get a basketball scholarship."

"Let's _go_, Lenny."

"Yeah, all right, all right, I'm comin'."

And then the three Eagles left the gym. The Hedgehogs were roused back to life when Beezus, angry now, shouted, "Twenty six laps! Go, go, go!" The boys scrambled off the bleachers. "Anderson, you call that running? Quit pickin' your nose and _move_! Philips, so help me, if you don't speed up, I'll tie you to the back of my car and drive up and down the freeway until you can learn to _run_!"

The team circled the gym, and then again, and as they went conversations about what had happened floated around. Some were angry about losing such good players as the Eagles, some were glad they didn't have to work with them, some agreed with the coach.

"Man, what a bummer." Gerald said with a sigh. "Guess we don't get to learn any Eagle moves after all."

"I sure was lookin' forward to it," Stinky agreed.

"If I were them, I'd be pretty ticked off, too." Gerald shot a look at Beezus. "You think Helga's upset?"

"Yeah." Arnold said.

"She's got tough skin," Stinky replied. "I'll bet she's off bad mouthin' Beezus this very minute."

Gerald chuckled. "I'll bet she is."

Arnold didn't say so out loud, but he was worried it was worse than they thought. He had learned, after being sworn to secrecy, from Phoebe that Helga's basketball career had been pretty important in her home life. When she made the team, her dad, Big Bob, had suddenly become a huge part of her life. He had been proud of his daughter, the only girl on the boys' team, and had been to every game, put up her trophies on a nice little shelf labeled "Helga", and funded the team.

She was off the team now. Arnold knew only too well what Helga's family was like, and he wondered what would happen now.

Gerald said somewhere around lap sixteen, "That Moze guy is somethin', though, don't you think?"

Arnold nodded appreciatively, "Yeah, good guy. Not a lot of guys have the guts to do that."

Stinky, who had been picking up his old southern slang ever since he found out girls liked it, said, "Better than an ere cake and fire flowers rainin' down on you on the 4th of July."

They looked at him.

"I agree." He translated.

* * *

43 blocks from her new school, Helga walked through the front door of her apartment. The house was wide and clean with new furniture and a flat screen TV. There were flowers on the coffee table and music was playing lightly in the background. Helga shut the door behind her and sighed. She had avoided coming home as long as she could, standing on the corner with Teri and Lenny and bad mouthing the stupid Hedgehog coach for over an hour. Eventually, though, the sun started setting and she had to head inside the apartment building.

She passed the kitchen, where the music was coming from, and saw her mother humming along while chopping fruit.

"Hey, mom." Helga said.

Miriam turned, "Oh, Helga, there you are! How was school?"

"Great."

"Good, good." Miriam was now a vibrant middle aged woman who had blossomed in their new financial situation. Moving to a new home had given her fresh surroundings and the little bit of extra spending money had helped pull her out of her depression. She now went (per her psychiatrists' suggestion) to yoga twice a week, and lunch with the girls from yoga once a week. The real change had come when, two years ago, Miriam's eldest daughter, Olga, and her husband, Danny, had a baby. Miriam's expectations of Olga's perfection had been realized in the perfection of her grandchild, and there were many pictures of Danny Jr. scattered about the apartment to prove it. Olga, finally fleeing the suffocation of her parents, now lived with Danny (whom she had met while hiking in Alaska) and Jr. in an artsy little suite in Seattle, where her husband was a professor of literature and Olga a professor of music. Having one daughter so perfectly successful and happy made Miriam feel accomplished (though she really had nothing to do with it) and had allowed some cheer (not to say she didn't have bad spells once in a while) and time for the rest of life and the rest of her family.

"What music is this?" Helga asked about the unbearable pop.

"It's Tiffany, dear. She was veeery popular when I was in college. Here, Helga, I made smoothies!" She offered Helga a tall glass of orange liquid with green flecks in it. Helga eyed it up and down. "Don't worry, dear, it's a virgin smoothie. Sober three years!" Miriam handed Helga the glass and went back to chopping more fruit and various strange vegetables, like eggplant and kale, since her newest hobby was organic health drinks.

Helga sipped the smoothie and winced but she took it with her to the hall. The door was open to her father's study, which was really just a room where he could build models or play solitaire whenever he wanted. She considered turning back around and avoiding him, but her room was on the other side and she really just wanted to crawl in bed and not get out again. Her best hope was that he was too busy doing something else to notice her walking by. She rolled her shoulders, took a big gulp of her smoothie, and practically jogged down the hall.

"Helga!"

She stopped, her hand on her bedroom's doorknob, and groaned. "Yeah, dad?"

"Come here!"

She reluctantly turned and sulked back to his office. Not daring to go in, she stood in the doorway and watched Big Bob glue a wing on an airplane. His desk was filled with knick knacks and pictures of Danny Jr., with a high stack of paper work being neglected to one side. There was a couch in one corner and a TV opposite, and lining the walls were shelves upon shelves of trophies with Olga's name on them. Behind Bob's desk was a single shelf that said "Helga" with three trophies, two for best female basketball player (which had really been a joke, since she was the only female player at East Side) and the other a little plaque that said "Good Citizen", which all the kids got after graduating junior high.

Bob looked up from under his uni-brow at his youngest daughter, a light orange mustache on his lips from one of Miriam's smoothies. "So, how'd practice go?"

_Oh, man..._ "Great. Yeah, it went great."

"You show those Hedgehogs a thing or two about real ball?"

"You know it, dad. They didn't know what hit 'em. Ha ha."

"That's my girl! When's your first big game? You can bet I'll be sittin' on the front row with the ol' Pataki cheer squad shirt on! Ha ha!"

"Uh...you know what, I'm not sure when the first game is. I'll have to get back to you on that."

"Sure thing, sure thing, kid. Say, how good are those Hedgehogs anyway? Criminy, it'd sure be a shame if they screw with your winning streak like a bunch of losers, huh?"

She twisted the smoothie glass in her hand. "I dunno, I think they're ok. 'Sides, it's not always about winning, right?"

"Well, sure it is. What's more important than winning? But you don't have to worry about that—you're a Pataki!"

"Right. Well, yeah, glad we had this talk, but, uh, I've got...homework."

"Sure, sure, go on."

She turned.

"Oh, hey!" He thrust a fist in the air. "Go Hedgehogs!"

She half heartedly put her fist up. His laughter followed her down the hall. She made it back to her door again before stopping. What was she going to do, just pretend she was still on the team? What would she do when Bob showed up at the game and she wasn't there? She rubbed her forehead and took another swig of her smoothie. There was a heavy pit in her stomach. Life had been better at home the last little while, but Helga lived in constant fear that any second it could slip back to what it had been. But what could she do? This was a lie it would be difficult to keep up. The old Helga would have told lies and set up scenarios and tried her hardest to fool her father. The old Helga _never _would have admitted that she wanted her family's attention but would have still worked tooth and nail for it.

But that was old Helga.

This was new Helga.

What would new Helga do?

Life at home had been better it was true, and she knew a lot of it had to do with basketball. But you know what? It's not like she wanted to grow up and be a professional or anything. She would have quit eventually. She liked it, sure, but it really didn't go beyond that. That would have to be good enough for her father, and she'd just have to accept the consequences.

She turned around and popped her head through her dad's door, and said ever so casually, "Oh, dad, I forgot to tell you—I quit the team."

He looked up in surprise, but she was already headed to her bedroom, and once inside she locked the door behind her. She leaned back against the door, a hand over her mouth. _Oh, gosh, what did I do? I hate new Helga—new Helga, what have you done? _She slid to the floor and stared at her room. And to think, just a few hours ago she was worried that she might have to be on the same team as Arnold.

* * *

Helga sometimes regretted the fact that she wasn't really a wallower. Her mother was, for sure, and her sister could do her fair share of being depressed, but Helga had missed that boat. She got upset, sure, and sometimes held it in for days, but outside...she just couldn't bear to show that kind of weakness to other people. So it was only twenty minutes after telling her father she had quit basketball that she emerged from her room, carrying her completely melted smoothie down the hall with downcast eyes.

She was purposely avoiding her father's study, but a loud _thud_ made her look anyway. Bob wasn't there, but Miriam was. She was picking up Helga's Good Citizen trophy that had fallen on the floor. Helga stared in horror at her empty trophy shelf. Already? They'd already cleared it?

As she straightened, Miriam noticed Helga. "Oh, hello. Just cleaning off your shelf. B told me you quit." She picked up her duster and began dusting off the shelf (really the only cleaning she ever did, since before she had done none and now they could afford a maid).

Helga didn't know whether to cry or throw her smoothie across the room in anger. She settled for speechless and crossed the carpet to look in the garbage can. The trophies weren't in there. "Where—" she cleared her throat, "Where are they?"

"Hmm?" Miriam turned. "The old trophies? They're over there." She pointed.

Helga turned and looked at the shelves and shelves of Olga's trophies, confused. Then, in the corner, she saw them, on a lower shelf where Olga's trophies had been crowded to one side to give them space. She started toward them slowly, even more confused.

Miriam placed the Good Citizen trophy back on Helga's shelf and stepped away to look at it. She turned suddenly. "Oh! And you'll never guess what I found in the same box as my Tiffany CD!" She picked something off Bob's desk. "Ta-da!"

Helga turned only to see a framed cover of a magazine, with herself as a kid on the front. In big letters at the top it said "The IT girl: Fabulous and Fierce!" Miriam set it beside the basketball trophies. Helga looked at them all there, the pit in her stomach lessening.

"There." Miriam looked back at the nearly empty Helga shelf. "I used to do this for Olga whenever she quit something. Goodness, that girl never knew what she wanted, always doing something new. But look, now there's plenty of room for whatever new thing you want to do." She patted Helga's shoulder before leaving. "Don't admire it too long! B's ordering pizza."

Helga stood in her father's office, a long awaited feeling, years in the making, of relief washing over her. Her trophies were on the same shelf as Olga's. Her mom was treating her the same way she had Olga. She was just like Olga. Well, kind of.

In a secret sign of gratitude to her mother, Helga gulped down the rest of the smoothie she was still holding. She wiped her mouth and headed toward the kitchen to put her glass away. Her father was standing in the living room, shouting at the pizza guy on the other end of the phone and flipping channels with the remote at the same time. She stood in the kitchen and listened to him.

"What do you mean it's expired? It's a coupon! Coupon's can't expire! Ah, here it is!" He stopped flipping channels. "Ha! We're up by two. No, not you idiot, the basketball game. You're not a basketball fan, are you? Yeah, I could tell. So how about that coupon?" Miriam walked into the room. "Miriam, what do you want on your pizza?"

"Well, I don't know. Mushrooms."

"Mushrooms? Just mushrooms? Who wants just mushrooms, Miriam, that's boring. That's not what winners eat. Helga, tell Miriam what winners eat."

Helga was surprised at being addressed so directly, but again, there was that feeling of relief to lighten her up. "Winners eat everything on it!"

"That's right! Winners eat everything on it." Big Bob moved into the kitchen, still arguing about coupons, and Helga flounced down on the couch to watch the game.

Miriam sighed and sat next to her. "Do we have to watch this? I thought we could move on from boring sports TV now that you're done with it."

"Just 'cause I don't play it doesn't mean I can't enjoy it." Helga replied.

"Amen!" Came Bob from the kitchen.

"Yes, well all right." Miriam sat for a minute. "Well, I think I'll go make us some smoothies to go with dinner." She stood up.

"Ok. Hey, can you make the same ones you made earlier? I thought they were good." _I'll throw you a bone, mom, since you threw me one._

Miriam smiled. "Of course, dear."

Helga sat snuggly on the couch, listening to her father yelling on the phone and then loudly at her mother when she revved up the blender, and thought, _I guess my family's pretty ok_.

* * *

Arnold was not thinking that Helga's family was pretty ok. In fact, he was thinking quite the opposite. He was remembering back to all the times Helga had complained about or been embarrassed by or been hurt by her family. He knew, though she'd never really told him, that it was a large source of many of her problems. According to Phoebe, it was better now, but it didn't erase all he had known about the Pataki's from before.

So, there he was at school the next morning, and he had effectively snuck up on Helga. In fact, he was standing two feet behind her while she rummaged in her locker, and the only one who had noticed him was Agatha, who looked up at him with big pink eyes, not saying anything.

"Helga," Arnold said.

Helga turned, "Ack!", and jumped back, hitting her head on the door of her locker. She rubbed the spot and slammed the door shut. "What?" She said.

"Uh...hey." It was the first time he'd stood this close to her in seven years, and he was suddenly distracted by the fact that he was looking_ down_ at her. He was taller than her. Only by about two inches, but still. The thought crossed his mind that she was the perfect height for a hug, which he was completely prepared to give, since he thought she must be upset about the basketball thing. "How are you feeling?"

She looked at him oddly. "Fine." She turned and started walking down the hall, both Agatha and Arnold following.

"You still ticked at Beezus?" He asked.

She just "Tskd!"

"Us too. Just so you know, we were all on your side. We tried to talk to him about it after practice but, well, we didn't really get anywhere."

She glanced at him, before looking firmly ahead again. She was walking pretty fast, but he was keeping pace with her. He looked down at Agatha, who was still staring at him curiously.

"Hi." He said to her.

"Hi," She said back, before finally looking away.

"Anyway, Helga. Listen, if you need anything, just say so, ok?"

"Why would I need anything?" Helga replied flatly.

"Well, you know. Just thought you might be kind of upset about the basketball thing—"

"I'm not upset."

"And maybe about your whole parent thing, so I thought you might want to know that we support you." Arnold had to pause and turn because Helga had stopped moving.

"What 'parent' thing?" She asked.

"Well," He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just know how your parents are sometimes. And, listen, even if they're mad, or whatever, you don't have to worry about that, ok? Honestly, they really can't judge. I mean, just look at them."

"Excuse me?"

He became silent. Her look had turned to one of disbelief and offense. Uht-oh. Immediately he felt his own foot kicking around in his mouth. He tried to backtrack, "No, that's not what I meant! I mean, your parents are very successful, I just meant that they don't have any right to be so shallow—"

"_Shallow_?"

"No! I mean, I know they always used to love your sister and you always felt kind of neglected, so I just don't think they should be so wishy washy just because you play basketball or you don't play basketball—"

"Who said they were wishy washy?"

He shook is head and briefly tried to remember another time when he had said so much of the wrong thing. "No one said that. Nope. But you know, I didn't mean any of that, I just meant I hope that every thing's ok at home, is all, and I hope that not playing basketball doesn't ruin it at all, 'cause I know how important it was."

She looked at him intensely, eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"

"Um, oh, well, you know...intuition?"

"Phoebe told you? What else did she tell you? All my deepest darkest secrets, huh?"

Crap. Now she was going to be mad at Phoebe, too, and it was his fault. "No, no, it wasn't really her, I was just being nosy!"

"Darn straight you were!" She said huffily.

Arnold frowned a little. "Well, hey, I wasn't being that nosy! We've known each other a long time, what's the big deal about knowing some stuff about your life?"

"I'll tell you why, football head—_you never bothered to ask_. You can't just know my secrets, as if you're some great friend or something!"

"Hey, I tried to be your friend, _you_ were always so mean—"

"You did _not_ try! Not once when I moved did you call, or, or send a letter! We are _not _friends, and I don't want a bunch of strangers bad mouthing my family on hearsay, and I _don't_ need help, least of all _yours_!" She shoved past him angrily, clipping his shoulder with hers, and stalked away.

Arnold looked back at Agatha, who had been watching the whole thing like a fascinating tennis match. After a moment she stuck her nose in the air, "Hmphd!" and followed after Helga.

Arnold stood in the hallway for a minute, not really sure what had just happened. Then he sighed. If he thought she hated him before, there would be no doubt about it now.

* * *

The J.V. team didn't have practice that day because the Freshman team had a game, at which Coach Beezus was an honorary coach who stood on the sidelines and helped their own coach yell at them. So after school, Gerald met Arnold by the front gate where dozens of kids were waiting for the buses.

"Hey, man, what's with the sour face? You didn't eat that jell-o from the cafeteria, did you? I heard Benny Watts was sick from it during fourth period."

Arnold didn't respond but continued to lean against the fence with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

"What? You get a bad grade or something?" Gerald waited. "Hello, dude, do you even see me?" He waved a hand in front of Arnold.

Arnold turned to him finally. "I'm a likable guy, right?"

"Uh, sure. Everyone likes you."

"You have to say that, you're my best friend."

"Well I wouldn't be your friend unless you were likable, right?"

"Hmm."

"Why the sudden need to know?"

"...I think Helga hates me."

Gerald rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

The bus had rolled up and they got in line with the rest of the kids, ready to file on.

"What is it now that makes you think that?" Gerald asked, slightly exasperated.

"Well, we kind of got in a fight."

Gerald raised his eyebrows. "A fight? About what?"

"Um..." Arnold was careful not to say too much, "Just some stuff. But we ended up yelling at each other and then she just stomped off."

"Sheesh." Gerald shook his head disappointedly. "And here I was hoping she'd really changed."

"No, it's not that...I think it was my fault."

"Your fault?"

Arnold climbed on the bus and Gerald followed him. He picked a window seat, and his friend slid in next to him.

"How was it your fault? What did you do?"

Arnold spoke in a lower voice so the kids around them wouldn't hear, "I was pretty insensitive about her family and I think I hurt her feelings."

Gerald looked at him, surprised. "Really?" He lowered his voice as well. "About the Patakis?"

Arnold nodded guiltily. "I didn't mean to pick a fight. I was trying to cheer her up about the whole basketball thing, but I just did it in a really non-tactful way."

They paused when Phoebe passed them in the isle, and Arnold lost Gerald's attention.

"Hey, Phoebe!" Gerald said brightly.

"Hi, Gerald," She replied. Then she looked at Arnold with a glare. She huffed down the isle and sat in the back of the bus as it pulled away from the curb.

Gerald turned from where Phoebe had gone. "Guess she heard about it." He shook his head and patted his friend sympathetically. "But you were trying to cheer her up, right? Helga seems pretty chill, now. I'm sure if you just apologized, she'd understand."

"I don't think so, Gerald. I think I kind of made her hate me more."

"Maybe... It's a shame, Arnold, but don't let one girl's view of you get you down! You know everyone else likes you. So what if there's one person who doesn't?"

Arnold knew Gerald was probably right, but he still had an irritated, nagging feeling in the back of his head. He put an elbow on the back of his seat and turned around. "Hey, Rhonda."

Rhonda looked up at him. She had the seat to herself so she could stretch out her legs and re-do her nails. "What's up, Arnold?"

"You know a lot about popularity and stuff. Can I ask you a question?"

She blinked before screwing the lid back on her polish. "You've come to the right person. What is your question?"

"Do people like me?"

Harold was sitting in the seat behind Rhonda with his arms on the back of her seat and he guffawed at this. "Do people like you? Why, you running for prom queen?" He stopped when Rhonda held up a hand.

All three boys waited as she sat up, eyes closed, her hands folded carefully so as not to ruin her polish. Gerald leaned toward Arnold and whispered, "Listen up. The Godfather knows all."

Arnold whispered back, "She is the Sum of all Knowledge."

Rhonda opened her eyes and looked at Arnold. "Arnold. I've known you a long time. Many have. You're good at sports. You have a funny shaped head. You wear the same baseball hat everyday."

"Whoa," Harold looked impressed. "She's right." Gerald told him to shut up.

Rhonda continued, "Your grades are always in the top percent of the class. You always work very hard at whatever it is you're doing. And I have never seen you in front of a girl and you _don't _hold the door open for her." Rhonda leaned forward, looking at Arnold seriously. He swallowed. "Yes, Arnold. People like you."

He relaxed. "Really?"

"Of course!" Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Arnold,_ everyone _likes you. You're friendly and nice to the point where it's gross. The only reason anyone wouldn't like you is because everyone else likes you _too_ _much_."

"See?" Gerald said. "What'd I tell you—nothing to worry about."

Arnold said, "But that's exactly my point. If everyone likes me, then why shouldn't she?"

"What's this?" Rhonda said. "Do you like a girl, Arnold?"

"It's not like that."

"Yeah," Gerald chimed in, "He's just being insecure because Helga hates him."

"Helga hates you?" Rhonda cocked her head and said, "That doesn't seem like Helga," as if she knew Helga better than anyone.

"Well, she does." Arnold said, and then thinking back to their argument, "And, yeah, maybe on good grounds. But that's all the more reason that I have to change her mind."

They looked at him.

"You have to what?" Gerald said.

Just then Sid made his way down the isle and slid in next to Rhonda. "What are you guys talking about? You all looked so interested I had to come over here."

Harold helpfully filled him in, "Everyone apparently loves Arnold but Helga doesn't, so now he wants to make her love him."

"What?" Sid exclaimed. "Schweet, we got some classic romantic comedy goin' on."

Rhonda smacked Sid on the head. "That's not it."

"Why'd you hit me, it was Harold who said it!"

Rhonda ignored his pain. "She just hates him, and Arnold, in an attempt to protect his popularity, has rightly decided to change her mind."

Arnold said, "Well, I dunno about popularity, but yeah. I mean, she's friends with all you guys, now, right?" There were general nods and shrugs all around. "Why not friends with me? Don't you think she should be friends with me?"

"But of course." Rhonda agreed and Harold shrugged.

"Sure," Sid said, just glad to be a part of the conversation.

Arnold looked at Gerald who said, "Arnold, if you want to be friends with her, I have no choice but to make it happen. What are friends for, if not that?" They clasped hands and wiggled their thumbs at each other, in their old childhood handshake.

Rhonda whipped out her cell phone and her fingers flew along the keyboard. "This is perfect timing! I've been looking for a new project!"

Arnold blinked at her. "New project?"

"Of course. And helping you, Arnold, is perfect." She put a hand to her chest. "Being the good Samaritan I am."

"Wait...who did you just text?" All the boys looked at her.

"Oh, just a few friends," She looked down when her phone buzzed. "Nadine says she's on board. Oh, and so is Sheena. And look! Even Sarah Xanthe is. And Taylor from Math lab. Ah, and Stinky," She turned to the back of the bus where he was sitting and he gave her a thumbs up.

Arnold lunged forward and grabbed her phone. "What are you doing!"

"What? I just thought some other people would want to help, too. You can't keep all the fun to yourself, Arnold."

"It's not about fun, Rhonda! I'm serious. And Helga can't know, or it won't work!"

Rhonda took back her phone that was still buzzing with a new response every second. "Of course, Arnold! I told all of them to keep it quiet. Don't worry, we can keep a secret."

Arnold eyed the phone in her hand and didn't know if he believed that.

"Wow, so we're really doing this huh?" Gerald said. "We're gonna get Helga Pataki to like Arnold."

Arnold rounded on him and poked him in the nose. "And you!"

"Me?" Gerald looked startled.

"You cannot, absolutely cannot, tell Phoebe."

The group turned to the very backseat of the bus where Phoebe was sitting with her headphones in, reading a book. She looked up when she felt their gazes and shifted uncomfortably. Everyone turned back around.

Gerald rubbed his nose. "All right, all right. I won't tell her."

"So how are we going to do this?" Sid rubbed his hands together. "Sonnets? Flowers? Posters? How?"

Arnold said, "Absolutely none of that."

"We'll have to be subtle," Rhonda agreed. "You know, drop gentle hints to her, just talk about how great Arnold is, that sort of thing."

Sid thought about this. "Ok, yeah, I can do that."

"Great," Arnold said.

"What are you going to do, Arnold?" Gerald asked. "You can't drop hints about yourself."

"No," Arnold smiled. "I have an idea."

* * *

A/N: Theeee eeeeend! Of chapter 2, anyway. Review!

P.S. The Godfather reference is also a You've Got Mail reference, just in case you're wondering.

P.P.S. Tiffany is totally a real singer. Look her up.


	3. Welcome to the Jam

A/N: I'm baaaaaaaaaaack. Not that I was gone very long. Whatever.

The owner is Bartlett. Craig Bartlett. (Imagine 007 music and a Sean Connery accent.)

Chapter 3: Welcome to the Jam

Mrs. Juarez's art room was falling apart at the seems. The tiles on the floor were cracked and the walls had a colorful splattering of paint that had accumulated over the fifteen years Mrs. Juarez had been working there. Broken easels and stools had been patched up with duct tape and glue, and the sink water ran slightly brown. Even though the mechanics of the room were old, there were always a healthy handful of students who signed up for the many number of different art classes. Happy drawings hung on every wall, no matter how terrible they really were, since Mrs. Juarez took very great care to nurture the growing artisan.

Mrs. Juarez herself was a short, jolly, middle aged woman who called every body _ninjo, _or _mijita_. One of her favorite little _mijitas _was Phoebe Heyerdahl, who at the moment was sitting to the side of the new student, _mijita _Helga.

Desks had been pushed out of the way and pottery wheels and stools set up for the small class of thirteen kids to mold clay to their heart's content. Phoebe was a decent potter, and she presently had her sleeves rolled up as she steadily carved out a vase with her hands. She glanced over at Helga, who was slumped over her potter's wheel and lightly dozing. Phoebe shook her head. It had been a rough couple of weeks for Helga, Phoebe had noticed. Helga didn't always tell Phoebe exactly what was going on, but Phoebe was a keen observer and had learned over the years to pick up on her friend's distress. Helga had been acting jumpier and jumpier, and the stress of it had manifested itself on Helga's face in the form of dark bags under the eyes and a perpetual yawn. It hadn't taken Phoebe long to recognize that Helga was at her jumpiest whenever Arnold was mentioned. Her first thought was that it was because Helga was still angry at him. The fight between her two friends had been told to Phoebe by an irate Helga the very day it had happened. Phoebe had felt awful for sharing secrets, and disappointed in Arnold, whom she had believed to be the perfect confidant. She had heard out the story and given a tearful apology that had swayed Helga's mercy. Phoebe knew she wasn't forgiven quite yet, but Helga hadn't been outwardly begrudging, so Phoebe had hope.

Helga's jumpiness and tiredness wasn't the only thing Phoebe had noticed, either. Dozens of people were suddenly popping up and talking about their football-headed acquaintance. All the time. When Phoebe had asked if he knew anything, Gerald just beat around the bush and denied any signs of weirdness. Phoebe felt like she'd been left out of a very large loop and was steadily becoming more annoyed about it.

Agatha was sitting on Helga's other side, expertly spinning her wheel and making her clay grow and shrink like a pro. She had also glanced at Helga, and when she looked up Phoebe shared a little worried look with her.

"Do you think we should wake her up?" Phoebe asked.

Agatha shook her head.

So they let her sleep all through second period, and Mrs. Juarez only came over once and said, "Poor _mijita_, she is so tired!" Then she walked away, clucking her tongue.

Helga woke a few minutes before the bell rang because of the group that had gathered around Agatha. Agatha's vase had turned into a Grecian urn, and Mrs. Juarez and half of the rest of the class stood around her as she carefully etched a grape vine and doves around the opening.

Helga rubbed her face and looked around. "What time is it?"

"Ten forty three," Phoebe replied, wrapping her vase carefully with plastic so it wouldn't dry out.

"Seriously? Why didn't you wake me up?" She picked a piece of clay off her face.

"You looked tired."

Helga yawned and stretched and flexed every muscle and cracked every joint. By the time she was done, the rest of the class had cleaned up and everyone was standing around with their backpacks on, waiting for the bell to ring.

"Did you see what I made?" Agatha asked.

"No, I didn't," Helga rubbed an eye. "Did you make something fancy?" Agatha nodded and Helga patted her on the head. "Good girl. You can show me next time."

"You didn't make anything, Helga," Phoebe said, "And you won't have much time next class. What are you going to turn in?"

"Meh, I just figured I'd make one of those hand-bowl things we always made in elementary school for mother's day. You know, where you just mold the clay like a bowl with your hand print in it?"

"I remember making those," Phoebe smiled reflectively. "My mother always put them on the coffee table with candy in them."

"My mom stacked them up and put them under the couch leg when it broke, and the first time my dad sat on it they all shattered."

"Oh, eh heh..." Phoebe wasn't really sure if that was meant to be funny but she couldn't think of another response.

The bell finally went off and the art class spilled into the hallway with the rest of the student body. Phoebe immediately noticed Helga go on high-alert, carefully looking this way and that and placing herself safely in-between her two friends. Sure enough, they had barely made it to the end of the art hall before Eugene suddenly fell into step beside them.

"Good morning, ladies," He called cheerfully, "How are you all on this fine day?"

"Very well, thank you," Phoebe replied.

Helga shrugged and said, "Can't complain, I guess," and Agatha nodded her agreement.

"Fantastic, fantastic. I'm having a pretty good day of it myself, if I may say so. Getting all set up for the fall showcase. We're putting on a one-act and everything. Say, you haven't seen Arnold, have you?"

And there it was.

Helga tensed and looked annoyed. Phoebe narrowed her eyes suspiciously and answered, "Not recently, why?"

"Oh, no big deal, really. He just volunteered to help with the music and setting up, being the great guy that he is. I told him we had it under control, but I seem to have broken my wrist by tripping over an amp, so turns out I could use him after all. He's always got such great ideas, don't you think?" Silence was the only response he got from any of the girls. "Well, pass along the message if you do run into him, won't you?" And he broke away from them, singing, "Goodnight, ladies! Goodnight, ladies! Goodnight, ladies, I'm going to leave you, now!" Then he was gone.

Helga sighed and Phoebe gave her a look. "What?" Helga said.

"Nothing."

"You wanna say something. What is it?"

"Nothing, really." She was being careful not to overstep her boundaries since she was still working her way back into Helga's trust, but just now she couldn't help saying, "It's just...it seems as though everyone keeps talking about Arnold. All the time. Why is that?"

Helga looked tired again. "Honestly, Phebes, I really don't know."

"It's like everyone knows about your fight and they're _all_ trying to make up for it. But I know for a fact that they don't, because the only person Arnold told was Gerald. I'm still not speaking to Arnold at the moment, but Gerald told me that was true, and I trust _him,_ at least. And Arnold did apologize, right?"

"Well, he tried a couple days ago, yeah. I wasn't in the mood to listen, though."

"So why is everyone suddenly talking about Arnold all the time?"

Helga just shook her head and Agatha looked pensive, as if this was the first time it had come to her attention and she was really thinking about it.

"Maybe," Agatha began, "It just_ seems_ like everyone is talking about him. Since we're all currently mad at him, maybe we're just more sensitive to whenever he's brought up. Like when you hate a song and then it suddenly seems to be on the radio all the time, but it's not _really_ on all the time, it just seems that way to you because you notice it more."

Helga and Phoebe looked at her, eyebrows raised. Then they thought about it. Phoebe tapped her chin and said, "You know, you might be right," and Helga patted Agatha with, "I'm sure that's exactly it, Aggie."

Surprisingly, this actually made Helga relax somewhat. Phoebe, however, bit her lip. She felt like saying more, but again didn't want to overstep any trust boundaries since she still felt like she was on probation. Perhaps she'd have to finally give up being mad at Arnold and approach him, instead.

* * *

Helga was successfully avoiding Arnold, she was proud to say. Over the two and a half weeks she had been there she'd slowly become accustom to the halls he frequented and had come up with alternate routes to class so that she wouldn't run into him. The one class they had together had quickly been remedied when she approached the teacher to tell him about her nearsighted problem (which didn't actually exist at all). He had said, "Oh, why didn't you say so! Terrible plight, to be blind to the knowledge that flows from the projector! We must move you immediately." Then he had made a kid at the front of the class switch her seats. Now Arnold himself was out of sight, which was done in the hopes of him being out of mind, but suddenly Helga had found herself surrounded by him. Not physically, but verbally. Orally. It had started out rather slow and unnoticed, with just the off-handed mention of him now and then by someone she knew, but had rapidly grown into her hearing his name nearly every second of the day. All the running away from it made her tired.

The worst part about it was, it didn't really surprise her.

Arnold was Arnold. He was smart and kind and good looking. Of course he was popular. Of course he had a lot of friends. Of course everyone would be talking about him.

Of course it ticked Helga off to no end.

She was still mad at him. Not as much as she had been, because, she knew, he hadn't been insensitive on purpose. It had been rude what he'd said, but she couldn't reasonably hold it against him since he really was ignorant to the truth. He had brought up all that stuff because he had been seriously concerned. It seemed he hadn't changed in that respect—no matter who it was, he still cared, whether he even knew them or not. Which made her mad again. Stupid honest and caring idiot.

She welcomed, therefore, any distraction she could get. Such as Rhonda, who had just stopped Helga between classes enthusiastically. "It'll be fun! And we could use another committee member from East Side—this'll be our first event as a new combined student body, so we want you guys to feel like you belong!"

Helga looked down at the flier Rhonda had handed her. It read,

_Fall Dance! Saturday, Oct. 27 for Guys and Ghouls alike! _

_Wear your best costume and come spend a haunting night with us!_

Then there was a silhouette of a werewolf and a witch dancing. "What's left to plan?" Helga asked. "It looks all set up to me."

"No, no, this is just propaganda. Nothing's really been decided except the date. And there's food and decorations and games and tickets and bands and venues and posters...there's loads to do."

Helga usually wasn't into the whole school spirit stuff, but, again, she didn't mind the distraction and perhaps freedom from hearing about Arnold for a wile. "Yeah, all right. I guess I could do that."

"Excellent. Thursday at lunch in the library, Helga. We've only got three weeks and plenty to do. We'll be expecting you!" Then Rhonda flounced down the hall and was soon out of sight.

* * *

Arnold carefully pulled his cell phone out of his pocket when it vibrated at the beginning of third period. He opened it to see a text from Rhonda blinking at him: _Thursday, the library, lunch time. I've signed you up for the dance committee. You can thank me later. ;)_

He sighed. "What? A committee? I don't have time for that..."

He slid the phone back to it's little home in his worn out jeans and went back to listening to his math teacher with a glazed look. He wasn't really focused on what he was saying at all, and the teacher's nasally voice didn't help any. He was thinking about what was going to happen during lunch and was watching the clock tick by with anticipation.

It was finally the day they were going to put Arnold's secret plan into action, a plan that had been nearly two weeks in the making. Only two people had been told this plan, Gerald and Stinky, because it involved something only they were related to—basketball.

That's right, he was using sports. Helga wasn't a typical girl, and so in no way was he approaching this problem in a typical way. He was using a sport where a bunch of tall guys in shorts ran back and forth fighting over a ball, and he was convinced it would work. He didn't for a second believe that Helga was as ok with being cut from the team as she would have everyone believe, and so he had determined to, using any means necessary, get her reinstated.

It was a slow process, one which he had been prepared for. Steadily and subtly, Arnold and his buddies had carefully suggested to Coach Beezus that the East Siders were _desperately_ needed on the team. Strategies that had always worked before for "some reason" no longer worked, since one of the boys secretly sabotaged it every time. At the end of practice, when the rest of the team was dejected from being yelled at by Beezus for two and a half hours, one of them would say, "Man, I wish we had some new plays. What was that play that Moze always did in the championship? If only we knew that one."

Or, "I saw Teri and Len durin' lunch. Whoo-ee, you should'a seen them poundin' pavement! Teri's got a right hook shot like you wouldn't believe! Even better than Harv, no offense, Harv, but he sure has!"

Since most of it was true, it didn't take long for the feelings to spread throughout the rest of the team. Arnold and Stinky focused on J.V. and Gerald focused on the Varsity team, and eventually they barely had to do any work. The other boys were the ones who had become completely convinced that everything would have been better if only the East Siders had stayed. The evidence that they had done their job well came when, a couple days ago, both J.V. and Varsity teams had lost their exhibition games against the high school from the next town over. They were just practice matches, and they wouldn't effect their entering the playoffs, but it was not how any Hedgehog wanted to start off the season. On the bus ride home, the poor dejected team was forced to listen to Beezus' disappointed rant. When he paused for breath, there was nothing to stop the whole team from hearing someone say, "If the Eagles had been here we would of won." Everyone had nodded, and then Beezus replied, "Yeah, yeah, but they aren't here." And he'd sat down and not said another word. Arnold, Gerald, and Stinky, shared silent fist bumps. Beezus was just about ripe for the picking.

And what was happening today was (hopefully) what would officially win him over, and with him, Helga.

The math teacher finished his lecture and gave the students the last fifteen minutes to work on the homework. Arnold had his text book out and was just about to start pretending he was working on the assignment when Phoebe suddenly pulled up a chair and sat at his desk with him. She was the teacher's assistant during this period and often helped out with homework, so it was never suspicious when she spent time at a student's desk.

She sat, still as a stone, with her hands folded on Arnold's desk. She just looked at him. It had been a while since she had paid him any attention, but he knew he deserved the silent treatment. Now he immediately took this opportunity to apologize. "Hey, Phoebe, I know you're still mad about...that thing. Just know I'm really sorry. I never in a million years meant for it to blow up like that."

She sighed. "I know you didn't." Then she resumed her stony look. Having absolutely no idea how to read a girl's mind, he just waited for her to get at whatever it was she wanted. At length she said, "So why are you suddenly so very popular? It doesn't have anything to do with Helga, does it?"

"Uhhh..." Trust her to go straight to the point. He knew she'd figure it out eventually—Phoebe was too smart to be fooled for long. "In a way."

"In what way? What is it all you guys are up to?"

Arnold sighed and put down his pencil. He wasn't opposed to talking to Phoebe. They were friends, sure, and, in Arnold, Phoebe had found a very nice outlet for talking about her life. When Helga moved, Phoebe would talk to him about her, and after that Phoebe sometimes sought him out in hopes of him hearing out all her own problems. But this wasn't about all her other problems. This was about their original topic.

"Well," Arnold wasn't entirely sure where to begin. He knew his usual explanation wouldn't work on an intellectual like Phoebe. "Ok, you know all those times when you told me about Helga? Like what she was up to and stuff? And that one time we talked about what if everyone else could see her now, and how they'd be so surprised?"

Phoebe nodded.

"Right. So when you told me she'd be coming to school here, I thought, great! I'd like to see this new Helga. I was kind of looking forward to it. But then she came, and not only are we not friends, she doesn't even _like_ me. So, I thought maybe she still just remembers me from when we were kids and she didn't always like me, but then I said some dumb things that offended her, so now she _really_ hates me. The thing is, none of it is really _me_. I just feel like she kind of got the wrong impression, so I wanted to give a better one. I would have gone about it in the normal way, like going up and talking to her, but, come on, this is Helga we're talking about. Normal doesn't reach her. She would have just walked away or told me to bug off or something."

Phoebe had just listened quietly. When he finished she tapped her chin and said, "So...you wanted to be friends with Helga." He shrugged. "But Helga doesn't like you." He nodded. "So...you got everyone to talk about you all the time?"

"That was mostly an accident. I only told a couple people, but it seems to have spread. Actually, I don't think half of them even know why they're doing it, they just are."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I would have, but at the time you were mad at me. You would have just gone straight to Helga and told her and then she would have been even more mad at me."

"...Yes. Probably. I _was_ very angry with you."

"Again, sorry."

They looked at each other, not saying anything.

"So," Arnold began casually, "Do you think it's working?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps tone it down a little—I think it's stressing her out."

"Yeah, that's not hard to imagine. I'll try to get Rhonda to help calm it down."

"Arnold," Phoebe started, "Do you...like Helga?"

"Well, yeah, sure."

"I mean, do you _like_ like Helga."

He looked taken aback. "No, I don't. Why would you say that?"

Phoebe just shook her head. "Never mind."

"You won't tell Helga about this, right?"

"For now."

Math ended and lunch began. Arnold, with Phoebe on his heels, quickly made his way to where he was supposed to meet Gerald. Gerald was ecstatic to see Arnold and Phoebe getting along again and he put an arm around both of them as they headed outside, and, more importantly, to the basketball court.

They paused in their procession when Arnold saw something out of the corner of his eye.

"What is that?" He asked, stopping and staring at a poster on the wall. Gerald and Phoebe came closer.

"It's you." Gerald answered.

On the poster, an 8x11 glossy sheet, was a picture of Arnold, smiling at the camera. Underneath was the caption, _How could you not like a face like this?_

The three just looked at it. After a second, Arnold snatched it from the wall and crumpled it up. Then he looked around.

"Oh no..."

About every five feet and extending all the way down the hall, and what looked like around the corner, hung more posters. At the end of the line of pictures they saw the culprits. Nadine held a stack of posters while Sid took them from her one at a time to carefully tape on the wall.

"Sid!" Arnold and the other two caught up with Sid, who turned with Nadine and gave them a wide smile.

"Hey, dude! Did you see the awesome posters I got made up?"

"Didn't I ask you _not_ to make posters? What about this is subtle?"

"Are you kidding me, this is genius! What better cover for our secret operation, S.G.H.L.A.?"

"Sgihla?" Gerald repeated.

"It's an acronym," Sid explained. "Stands for Subtly Getting Helga to Like Arnold."

Arnold shushed him, glancing around at the other students passing by. He said in a lower voice, "How is this subtle?"

"How is it not? This way, she won't know it's directed at her. It's like those presidential commercials with the subliminal messages. Before you know it, she'll be shovin' her way to the front of the line to have you kiss her baby!"

Arnold just stared at him and Gerald said, "What on Earth are you talking about, dude?"

"The elections," Nadine added helpfully. "Since Arnold's been nominated for Sophomore class president."

"_Me_?"

"Oh my goodness," Phoebe piped up. "I thought I heard them say your name during announcements this morning. I just thought I heard them wrong. Didn't you hear it?"

Arnold and Gerald shook their heads. They'd been too busy talking about how the basketball thing was going to go down later to pay attention to the broken intercom.

"Well, they did." Nadine said. "They announced you, Eugene Horowitz, and Lila Sawyer."

"Eugene and _Lila_? I can't run against them!"

"No worries, dude," Sid slapped Arnold on the shoulder. "I've taken it upon myself to be your campaign manager. We got this election in the bag."

"But I thought we already did the elections." Gerald said. "Isn't it kinda late in the term to start now?"

"We were going to start them early in September," Phoebe said. "But when East Side High burnt down, we put it off so that we could do them when the new students got here. We thought it'd be fair to have them be a part of the process."

Arnold didn't really know what to think about all this, but he also didn't have a whole lot of time to consider it. The more time they spent talking, the more time they were wasting. "Ok, ok. We'll talk about this later. Just...don't do anything obvious. And don't make any more posters!"

They left Nadine and Sid, who resumed hanging up the last of the already printed posters. As they made their way to the blacktop, Gerald asked, "Are you actually gonna run for class president?"

Arnold sighed. "I don't know, I never even thought about it. I might not have time what with basketball practice, and then the dance committee..."

"Dance committee? How'd you get roped into that?"

"Rhonda."

"Ah."

They stopped just between the tether-ball poles and skate ramp. Ahead of them was the basketball court, where a bunch of guys were playing back and forth, not really abiding by any rules. Stinky was standing near the players, and when he saw Arnold and Gerald he nodded. They nodded back. To their right, sitting against the school wall in the shade, was Helga and her friends, eating lunch. Across the concrete, near the picnic tables, Moze sat with a group of seniors, including Itchy.

"Ready?" Gerald asked.

"Yep."

"What's going on?" Phoebe asked.

"Watch and learn, Phoebe," Gerald said and directed her lightly in Helga's direction. "Will you wait with them? You'll see what's up in a minute."

Phoebe walked toward Helga with a last curious glance while Arnold and Gerald went in the opposite direction. They wove their way through the other students milling about outside and over to the basketball court, taking up a place next to Stinky.

"Hey, Wolfgang!" Arnold called loudly to the older boy on the court. Wolfgang paused from wrestling the ball from his friend.

He sneered. "Well, if it isn't my favorite dork! Why don't you get on the court, we'll play some three on three. Promise not to make you cry too hard." He elbowed one of his friends and the other boys guffawed.

"Well, thanks for asking, but, nah!" Arnold shook his head.

"Come on, don't be such a sissy. I thought you were just a girl, I didn't know you were also a chicken!" Wolfgang flapped his elbows and made clucking noises.

Arnold snorted. Any other day he would have been on that court in a second, wiping the floor with Wolfgang's butt. Today, though, he had a different goal. He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, I just don't feel like playing in front of those East Siders. They love making fun of us when we play out here."

This wasn't true in the slightest, but it caught Wolfgang's attentions. His face scrunched up. "Wha?"

"Yeah, you know," Arnold jerked a thumb in Helga's direction. "Those guys. They say watching us try to play basketball is like watching old ladies fight over prunes at the supermarket."

"Old ladies?" Wolfgang's nostrils flared.

"Yep." Arnold said, "Little old ladies."

Gerald said, "I heard them say they were glad they didn't get stuck on our team, because we probably would have just embarrassed them."

Stinky pretended to look appalled. "They did not! Well, my lanta, that's just more ridiculous than pea pods and bacon." He crossed his arms. "I'm not so sure they should get away with that kinda talk, are you?"

Arnold shook his head and hammed it up, "But what can we _do_? They're right, aren't they?"

"Oh, no, they're not!" Wolfgang stomped off the court. He shouldered Arnold on his way past. "You call yourself a Hedgehog! You don't deserve the name, traitor!"

Wolfgang, his friends towering behind him, crossed the blacktop, shoving other kids out of their way, and headed straight towards Helga and her friends.

Gerald snickered, "That was way easier than I thought."

Arnold smirked, "Told ya."

"Don't celebrate just yet, fellas." Stinky said. "You can't count your chickens before they hatch."

* * *

Helga looked disbelievingly up at the big ox in front of her. "Come again?"

"You heard me, ugly," Wolfgang retorted, hands on his hips. "I'm challenging you guys. Us against you. Then we'll see who the old ladies are."

Helga looked at Teri, who shrugged. Lenny said, "Old ladies?" Agatha and Phoebe just blinked up at the huge guys standing over them.

"You wanna play us at basketball?" Teri tried to clarify.

"Only if you're not too scared." Wolfgang tossed his ball at Teri's head, which Teri caught before it hit him. Slowly a grin spread across Teri's face, which he shared with Helga and Lenny.

Helga said, "All right. Bring it on."

They stood and the whole group carved a path back towards the court, Agatha and Phoebe hurrying to keep up behind them. Under the nearest hoop Helga noticed Arnold give Gerald a high five before jogging towards the school. She watched him go, curious, until Wolfgang shouted, "Johanssen! Harv! You're in. The rest of you, you're out.

Wolfgang's friends glared at him, and all but one left the court while Gerald entered it smugly. The cast-offs joined the spectators, like Agatha and Phoebe, on the side and all prepared to watch.

"All right," Wolfgang said when they circled around center court. "We play till lunch is over. Normal rules. Whoever has the most points by the end wins."

Teri, who was a junior and had been on the Eagles' Varsity team (while Helga and Lenny were J.V.) spoke for his little rag-tag team, "Fair enough, I guess." The circle broke and the six turned. Teri shared a smile with Helga. Lenny was already in position, hands on his knees, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He'd started singing lightly, "Everybody get up, it's time to slam now, we got a real jam goin' down, welcome to the Space Jam! All right!"

Teri took his place center and Helga moved behind his left shoulder. She could tell her friends were itching with anticipation. She was too, actually. It had been a while since they'd played together; with the sun shining down on their backs she felt all the muscle memory tensing up in her legs. The adrenaline that always gave her a rush before a game was speeding through her veins and she leaned forward, ready to spring as soon as Stinky tossed the ball in. Gerald was standing center on his own team, with Wolfgang standing opposite Lenny, and Harv across from Helga. She looked haughtily at Harv and he sneered back at her.

Stinky held the ball in between the two centers. "Ready?"

Teri, unnoticed by anyone but Helga, gave her a quick wink over the shoulder. She nodded. She inched forward ever so slightly, which drew Gerald's eyes to her, ever so briefly. She took her chance, winking flirtatiously and blowing a kiss. Gerald looked confused, and it was just enough of a distraction that he was late jumping for the ball. Teri snagged it out of the air, and the stillness on the court broke. Both teams rushed forward and the sound of the ball hitting pavement echoed across the blacktop.

The East Siders jumped easily back into their usual game, despite so little practice the last few weeks. Soon they were darting in and out of the other players, tossing the ball back and forth, and reading each others movements like they'd always done. It was only a matter of minutes before Teri, with his legendary hook shot, made the first basket. His heavy girth landed back on the ground and the quake of it could be felt all the way to the spectators on the side. "Lucky shot!" Was all Wolfgang said. The second time, Lenny (who was six foot five) slam-dunked the ball, hanging off the hoop triumphantly. On the jog back to his own side, Stinky (who was six foot seven) high fived him in a moment of tall-male-bonding.

Wolfgang's team slowly became more and more steamed. They began again, the Hedgehogs angrily stepping it up a notch, pushing back the Eagles until they made one, and then two shots, one an excellent bank shot by Gerald, the other by Wolfgang. Instead of discouraging the East Siders, it excited them. They liked a challenge. Lenny said jubilantly in an aside to his teammates, "Ooh, it's gettin' hot up in here! Looks like we'll have to bring out our real game."

And they did. The two teams clashed, both determined to break the tie in their favor. The Eagles had the ball, and Wolfgang was getting irritated enough that he was beginning to fudge the lines on the rules. He stomped hard on Lenny's foot, who cried out and dropped the ball. Wolfgang snagged it, and Helga broke free of Harv's annoying blocking and shouldered Wolfgang in the side just before he had the chance to take a shot at the basket.

"Foul!" Stinky called. Helga shrugged innocently at him.

Wolfgang spun on Helga, his nose nearly touching hers. "Stay out of the way, little girl."

"What's the problem, ugly?" She poked him in the belly. "Is playing with the big kids too hard for you?" Then she flounced back into position.

The players ran back and forth down the court, the ball passing from one side to the other. At last they ended up beneath the Hedgehog's hoop, Teri with the ball. Gerald was making it impossible for Teri to take a shot, completely blocking him at every turn. Wolfgang was doing the same to Lenny, effectively keeping him from getting to Teri's aid, and Harv was annoyingly all up in Helga's face. This went on for a while, all shoulders and elbows and grunts, until Teri caught Helga's eye. He jerked his chin back toward center court and she nodded. She managed to lose Harv by backing away. Lenny, quickly catching on, forced his way to Teri and helped clear enough room for Teri to pass him the ball. He dribbled it toward the hoop, and made as if he were about to dunk it, all three Hedgehogs running after him and Teri as if to protect him. Just when they were about to surround him and make it impossible for him to reach the hoop, Lenny tossed the ball high over his shoulder. Helga, who was completely unguarded, caught it, and dribbled it in the opposite direction, stopping at center court. The court itself, despite being an outside one, was done up to N.B.A. standards, making it longer and wider than normal high school courts (it was one of the few prides of the Hedgehogs). Helga turned around and faced her target that was even further than it seemed, breathing deeply to clear her mind. She bounced it once and tossed it toward the hoop. It went in without even hitting the rim. The Hedgehogs swung round to stare at her.

"Well, slap me silly," Stinky said a few feet away. He leaned toward Agatha, who looked confused, and said, "She just made that from center court!"

"Is that good?" Agatha asked. Stinky just laughed.

Helga looked Wolfgang straight in the eye and said, "Swish."

The bell rang.

Teri and Lenny each high fived Helga. Teri said proudly, "Well done, Pataki."

"That one never fails," Lenny kissed his lucky baseball card that hung around his neck.

Gerald sauntered over, sweat dripping down his face, but smiling. "Good job, Helga."

"You too, Geraldo." She said.

Teri said to him, "That three pointer you made was excellent."

"Well, I do try." Gerald fist bumped him.

Agatha and Phoebe raced over in awe and Stinky and Lenny began comparing shoe sizes. Helga smirked proudly at the success of her team when she noticed another group headed towards them. She turned to see Coach Beezus, flanked on either side by Itchy and Moze, and behind them just a step, with his hands in his pockets and a little smile, was Arnold.

Beezus stopped in front of the group with a begrudged, "Hmph. Good job, all you." He glanced over at Wolfgang and Harv, who were glaring at the Eagles and ashamedly moving the other direction.

"Uh, thanks," Teri said in response. Moze changed sides to stand by his team, patting them all proudly.

"Well," Beezus crossed his hairy arms and scowled. Itchy elbowed him to egg him on. "I...think we could learn a lot from you. If you'd still like to join the team." They stared at him. Then everyone looked at Helga. Beezus grunted. "Her too."

The boys all grinned and slapped her on the back and Moze cantered back to the school with Itchy, talking strategy. Beezus turned without another word and stalked back to torment the freshmen P.E. class he had that period. Arnold joined the group lingering on the court, and Helga shrunk back, suddenly aware of how sweaty she was.

"Good game, guys," Arnold said. "That was some slam dunk, Lenny."

"All thanks to these babies," Lenny stretched a long leg and patted it.

Gerald shouldered Arnold. "So, I see you got Beezus out here on time."

"Did you bring him out here?" Teri asked. Helga listened carefully, pretending like she wasn't.

Arnold shrugged, "Sure. Figured it was a shame you guys didn't even get a chance to show what you could do before Beezus practically kicked you out." Helga glanced up at him and he was looking at her. She turned away.

The group moved toward the school as one, and Phoebe and Agatha sidled up on either side of Helga, away from all the boys.

"Gee," Phoebe said casually, "That sure was nice of Arnold, don't you think, Agatha?"

"Oh, yes," Agatha nodded enthusiastically.

"He probably went to a lot of trouble, huh?"

Agatha nodded again. Helga raised an eyebrow down at Phoebe.

Phoebe gave her an innocent look. "I was just saying."

Helga rolled her eyes. But as they entered the school, her eyes slid toward Arnold, who was deep in conversation with the guys about NBA teams. _All right, fine, _she thought with a sigh._ I forgive you._

* * *

Later that day, as the autumn sun was drifting lower and lower in the sky, Helga went back out to the blacktop. She'd just come from her and the Eagle's first practice and had changed back into school clothes, but she didn't feel like going home yet. Moze let her borrow his basketball and she sent the boys home on the city bus ahead of her. Some time to herself would be nice.

She dribbled the ball and wandered back and forth, making a shot from here, casually walking after the ball when it rolled away, making another shot from there. It was a mindless exercise, and left plenty of room in her head for her to think about other things.

Practice had gone ok. And by ok, she meant horribly. She hoped no one else had noticed how completely klutzy and scatterbrained she had been, but knew that was wishful thinking. She'd spent the whole three hours dropping the ball, traveling with it, tripping over her teammates, and running the wrong direction up the court. The boys probably thought she'd never played basketball a day in her life and the coach must have been seriously reconsidering his decision. She had been horribly embarrassed, and being embarrassed only ticked her off, making her snap at whoever was closest. She had completely lost her cool, and she new exactly why.

"Stupid football head," She muttered aloud, tossing the ball in the hoop.

She had felt herself slipping even before she'd gotten to practice. It was all his fault. He had been all chivalrous and gallant, getting the Eagles back on the team. She had blushed and coughed and not said a word to him after lunch when he walked with her to their North Eastern Cultures class. Then she sat at the front of the class, and tried to pay attention, until Arnold raised his hand and answered a question, then she'd sighed and thought, _He's so smart. _To hide the sigh, she'd said out loud to the kid next to her, "What a show off, right?"

Then she'd gasped at herself, horrified. _No!_ She'd thought defiantly, _How am I turning into _that girl _again? If I'm not careful, I'll get lost._

Then, at practice, she had gotten lost. She was on the J.V. team, and, of course, so was he. Even when he wasn't in her line of sight, she knew he was there, watching. She'd tried to focus on the ball, on the game, on anything else. But she couldn't. She'd just ended up embarrassed and acting like a fool. And it made her even more annoyed when he had smiled and said, "Good try! You'll get it," as if it wasn't his fault. She had wound up her arm to chuck the ball at the back of his head then, but stopped herself just as she realized what she was doing.

By the end of practice she'd come to a decision. Beezus had been shocked and furious when she told him afterwards that she didn't think she was up for being on the team.

She told herself that it was because the coach had put her on second string, that he yelled at her when she messed up, that she didn't have time for basketball, and that she'd decided it wasn't fun any more and she really didn't care. She wished it wasn't really because she was a ridiculous teenage girl who was going to dramatic measures to avoid a teenage boy, but in all honesty, that's what it was. Pride just wouldn't let her admit it.

She had enjoyed basketball, sure, but it wasn't like it was her favorite thing in the world and it definitely wasn't worth the loss of her entire personality. It was better that she stay away until she was able to stabilize herself. _It's a sacrifice for the better_, she thought. She'd always felt like baseball was more her thing, anyway.

Being off the team couldn't keep her from shooting hoops, though. Besides, it was a good outlet for her emotions. She was so lost in the rhythm of it, that she didn't notice her spectator until the ball went astray and he picked it up.

"Hey," Arnold said. She just looked at him blankly. He was standing by the chain-link fence that surrounded the whole school. It was an unusually high fence, and was meant as protection for the school, but a man sized hole had been cut in it, just a few feet from where Arnold was, and no one had ever bothered to fix it. Arnold must have come through it from the outside without her noticing.

As she stared he dropped his books by the fence and left them. He tossed the ball to her, which she caught by reflex. He stood under the hoop. "Go ahead."

Needless to say she was more than a little freaked out at his sudden appearance just when she was thinking about him. Her first thought was, _Run away!_ But for once her body went against her and decided to stay put. She absently tossed the ball toward the basket and, somewhat to her surprise, it went in. Arnold caught it as it came back down.

"Good shot." He tossed the ball back to her. She bounced it once, and shot again.

"What are you doing here?" Was all she could think to ask.

"I had an errand to run for my Grandpa at a shop on the next block over before I went home. When I was walking to the bus stop I saw you out here." He dribbled the ball a couple times before chucking it back to her. "What are _you_ doing here?"

She shrugged in a non-committal way and said, "Shooting hoops," which she accented by making another basket.

"I can see that." He smiled and bounced the ball back to her. He stopped smiling. "I heard Coach ranting up a storm in his office when I left. Helga, did you tell Coach Beezus you didn't want to be on the team?"

Helga twisted the ball in her hands before preparing to shoot. "Maybe." The ball bounced off the rim and didn't go in. Arnold caught it and held onto it in order to get her attention.

"Why?" He asked.

She was trying to be cool and look him in the eye without actually looking him in the eye. "It's not my thing."

He frowned. "I thought you liked basketball."

"I do. It's just...not my thing. I'm done with it."

"What about everything you went through at East Side? All that stuff the coach had to do with the district to get you on the team?"

She raised an eyebrow snootily. "Oh, you know about that, too, huh? Is there anything you _don't_ know?"

He bounced the ball guiltily. "Listen, I didn't mean to pry, ok? And Phoebe never meant to betray your trust. She probably didn't think there was anything wrong with telling me—you and I used to be friends, and sometimes I'd ask how you were doing and she'd tell me. That's all."

Helga looked at him. He was telling the truth, she knew. "I know you didn't mean to." Then she was silent, and hoped he'd just go away.

He didn't go away. "So you're really just 'done' with basketball?"

"My parents are ok with it, if that's what you're after." She said dryly.

"No, that's not it at all! I just wanted to make sure _you're_ ok with it."

She shrugged. "Yeah. I was never really that great at it, anyway. I mean, I'm a decent shot, when I'm standing still and unguarded, but not so great when I have a bunch of giant smelly guys blocking me. Really the biggest reason my old coach kept me around was because I was so aggressive."

He gave a little snort that may have been a chuckle and tossed her the ball. "You were always good at that." He gave her a crooked smile.

She swallowed, and avoided his gaze again, focusing instead on the ball as she tossed it at the hoop.

"When I heard you'd joined the basketball team, I was actually pretty surprised. I never knew you even played basketball that much."

She didn't respond and just caught the ball when he bounced it back to her again. _I didn't use to,_ she thought. She had picked up the sport shortly after moving. She had found herself stuck in an apartment, with nothing to do but think about Arnold and whether or not he missed her yet (which she was sure he never did) and had started to go stir crazy. There was a baseball diamond a couple blocks over, but she didn't have anyone to play with in her new neighborhood. One day she took a basketball from her dad's room and went down to the basketball court in the alley by her apartment and started shooting hoops. Turned out it was a decent distraction, so she started doing it whenever she was trying to get her mind off Arnold. Which happened to be a lot. As a result, she became quite good. There was no way she was explaining that to him, though. "Meh," was all she said, dribbling the ball from one hand to the other.

Then they had run out of things to say. She was still hoping he would get bored and go away but he seemed to be perfectly content just standing there, silent. With him just staring at her she began to get more and more anxious. _Get out of here before you do something stupid,_ she told herself. She was just about to make up an excuse for leaving (or in all reality she was about to turn around and make a run for it) when she heard Arnold's cell phone ring faintly. He pulled it out and glanced at it with a sigh. Helga aimed the ball at the hoop, pretending she wasn't paying attention.

"It's Rhonda," He explained out loud, putting the phone away. "Meeting change, apparently. She signed me up for this dance committee, for some reason."

Helga's shot swung unexpectedly wide and Arnold had to chase after it. _Dance committee? You have got to be kidding me! The same one I'm on?! _She suddenly imagined every violent thing she could do to Rhonda and have it still be legal. _I gave up basketball so I could get _away_ from him! _Had her sacrifice been made in complete vain? Evidently so. She could feel her stomach sinking. _I don't believe this...ok, ok, calm down. What's the bright side? _He was walking back to her now, and not just stopping under the hoop, he was coming all the way. Her anxiety just grew with her rapid heart beat. _Frak! There is no bright side! I'm stuck with him!_

Her brain was whirling around so fast she didn't notice she was glaring at him intensely.

"You ok?" He asked, stopping in front of her. "It wasn't that bad of a shot."

She took the ball from him, more roughly than she meant to. "Yeah. I'm fine." _Why? Why me? What did I ever do to you, Universe? What have you against me, Fortuna? Why are you set on torturing me? _"I have to go."

"Uh, ok."

She turned and began walking to where she'd left her stuff, squeezing her eyes shut as soon as he couldn't see her face. _I'm trying so hard!_ Having him around messed her up. He always had, but over the years of his absence she had become desensitized to him. She had learned to live without him, and had found normal wasn't bad. It consisted of a lot less stress and heartbreak, that was for sure. It seemed, however, that as soon as he was back in her life, normal jumped out the window, head first. So she had stayed away from him in an attempt to protect herself. But what now? Was she just going to quit everything that she did in order to avoid him? How was that any better?

_What can I do? _She could just give in. Just act the way she used to. Obsess over him. Hate him. _I can't do that again. I don't want to pine after him while he goes on with _his_ normal life, not even caring about me. It isn't fair._

She reached her stuff and stopped, looking down at it defiantly.

_No. I won't do that. Criminy, I'm Helga Geraldine Pataki. I am WOMAN. I can't just avoid him. And I can't revert back to a child. I'll just have to learn to live with him._ She refused to let him, a boy who didn't even notice or care that he was messing with her head, run her life. Despair ebbed and pride started filling her chest again. She picked up her stuff.

_Bring it on, Universe. I can take you. No way I'm letting you win. I'm going to co-exist with him, as a polite acquaintance. I will not break down. I will not lash out. And I will _not_ obsess._

She straightened and turned toward Arnold. There was her opponent. There was her enemy. She would not let him win.

She smiled. "See you tomorrow, Arnold." Then she ducked through the hole in the fence and walked away down the sidewalk to the bus stop, taking confident strides. _I'm gonna be the best polite acquaintance he's ever had. _She laughed out loud, and it only sounded a little crazy.

* * *

Arnold watched Helga go from the blacktop. He watched her through the fence all the way to the corner, where she turned out of sight. The sun was turning the sky orange. He figured he'd miss the bus if he didn't hurry. He thought his grandparents might start to wonder where he was. But he didn't move.

Something was different. He could feel it. He had noticed it before, but hadn't paid it any attention. What was it? He thought back to only seconds ago, when Helga had smiled at him. He liked the way the skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. He wished she'd do it more.

He thought back to previous conversations he had had with Phoebe about Helga. He thought about how hearing stories about her always made him laugh. He remembered a story from a few years ago, when Helga was thirteen. There had been an old statue outside her Junior High, that was chipped and covered in grafitti so it was no big shock when they announced they were going to tear it down. Helga, for some unknown reason, had decided she liked the statue, and that it shouldn't be torn down. The night before it was supposed to be demolished she had snuck out and chained herself to its leg. Arnold could easily picture her leaning against it the next morning when everyone found her, the classic "touch me, I'll kill you" look on her face. The police had come to cut her off, and she had bitten one on the arm when he tried to carry her away. Upon hearing the story retold by Phoebe, Arnold had laughed so hard at the image of Helga fighting off the police that he had practically cried. He remembered how fiery and strong she always was. He had missed Helga when she left, and the more stories he'd heard the more he thought it might be fun to see her again.

He contemplated the last couple weeks and his intrigue when he learned Helga was coming back to the neighborhood. By that time, he'd heard so much about how Helga had grown it seemed as though he'd been there. He thought of the first day the East Siders had come, when she had stood at the front of his class and how he had felt like she hadn't been gone that long. He thought about how ticked off he'd been when she'd avoided him. He thought about how he'd decided to make her like him, and worked on it for weeks. That wasn't like him. Why had he cared so much?

He thought back to earlier that day and the conversation he'd had with Phoebe. _Do you _like _like Helga?_

Then the image of her smiling at him, and her walking away with the setting sun making her blond hair seem pink popped back into his head.

It had come on subtly. Alarmingly subtly. It had happened before he'd known it had, and most of it while she wasn't even around. Was that even possible?

_Do you_ like _like Helga?_

Yep. Apparently it was possible.

"Uh-oh," He said aloud. "I'm in trouble." There was no response from the silent world around him. The sun ignored him and just kept on setting. After a few minutes of stunned reflection, he slid his hands into his pockets and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "...Maybe I don't mind trouble."

* * *

A/N: Herm, derm, de-derm...that chapter hurt my brain. Hopefully you guys are keeping up with me. ;)

For anyone who's curious, Helga's position on the Eagles' school team was Power Forward, which is how the coach took advantage of her aggressive tendencies. Teri was Point Guard on the Varsity team, Lenny was Shooting Guard on J.V., and Moze was Center Forward on Varsity. On the Hedgehog side, Gerald is Point Guard on Varsity, Wolfgang is Power Forward on Varsity, Stinky is Shooting Guard on J.V., and Arnold is Small Forward on J.V. During the three on three, no actual positions are played since there aren't enough players to cover them all, everyone kind of does everything.

REVIEW, darn you, and FAVORITE!


	4. Seriously Misplaced Sympathy

A/N: Aw, here we go, here we go!

Hey Arnold!

Arnold.

Arnold.

_Arnold._

ARNOLD! X1,000,000

Aaaaaaaaaaaaarnooooooooooooo old...

Move it, football head!

Roll credits: Craig Bartlett.

Heh heh, see what I did there? I used the title sequence, get it, and I, heh...yeah.

Chapter 4: Seriously Misplaced Sympathy

It was an unusually bleak Monday morning in October. The red leaves fell like rain and everyone on the street was bundled up in sweaters as they made their way to school or work. Arnold himself wore a navy blue wool jacket and a girly looking, more-pink-than-red scarf his grandmother had put on him before he'd left the house. The weather seemed to have permanently taken a turn towards being eternally overcast, damp, and windy, and Arnold wondered if it was a sign meant for him. He had admitted (albeit only to himself) that he might have feelings for THE Helga Geraldine Pataki nearly a week ago, and he watched the sky wearily as he stood at the bus stop, waiting for the #13. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him something. Was that a grim he saw in the clouds, an omen of ill will? Or was it a heart shaped ball of cotton candy? He couldn't tell. Either way it looked like it might rain.

The previous week had been an interesting one for Arnold. At one point he'd be walking down the hall, thinking that his feelings had only been fleeting. A trick of the setting sun. Heatstroke. Brief insanity. He couldn't really _like _like her. Then the next moment he'd be sitting in class, listening to Helga complain about Russian history and the inaccuracy's of Fox Studios' Anastasia, and he'd think, _It wasn't a trick of the light. She really is cute._

By the end of the week he wasn't any closer to nailing down exactly how he felt. Friday night he had decided not to think about her for the weekend, and save it for Monday's problem. About ten minutes later he'd found himself wondering what she was doing right then.

Arnold wasn't one to get frazzled and flustered by confusion or stress easily, and he wasn't. Instead, to ignore his slightly quicker pulse, he took to wearing his chunky old headphones (headphones he claimed made the sound more "meaty") around to clear his head. Like he was now. He was listening to some snappy tune and staring dreamily up at the sky, enjoying the brisk fall wind. He was so busy trying to decide if the cloud above him was an omen of death or a delectable carnival treat, that he didn't notice the bus stopping. After a few minutes, Harold lowered a window and called, "Hey, Arnold! Are you getting on the bus or are you just gonna hang around like a ninny in your pretty little scarf?"

On the #13 it took Gerald a good five minutes to get Arnold's attention as they moved along to the next stop.

"Sheesh, man," Gerald chided as Arnold slid his headphones off his head and hung them around his neck. "You're spacey to begin with, but lately it's like you've mentally checked out of reality and into the Lala Land Hotel."

"Sorry, Gerald," Arnold replied, "I've just been...thinking."

"About what? Something interesting enough to keep you so preoccupied is definitely worth sharing."

"Oh, uh..." He wasn't ready to talk about it, even to Gerald. He didn't want to say anything before he'd figured it out himself. "It's this project in my North Eastern Civ class."

"A project?" Gerald said dubiously.

"Yeah. It's on Baba Yaga. We had to split up into groups and pick subjects. Mine's on Baba Yaga." It was true, he was doing a project on Baba Yaga, but what he didn't say was that he had been put in a group with Helga Pataki. Arnold felt guilty for not confiding in his friend, so this was kind of a way to tell Gerald what was on his mind without really telling him.

"Baba Who-ga?"

"Yaga. She's a witch from old Russian fairytales. And I'm also thinking about the dance committee," Which was another thing he did with Helga, "'Cause Rhonda's been on us to make decorations and stuff. It's all just a lot to think about."

"Homework and a dance? That's it?" Gerald narrowed his eyes at him, and would have asked more, except just then they had stopped at Phoebe's bus stop. Phoebe sat behind them and Gerald flipped around in his seat to talk to her. Arnold put his headphones back on and thought about his homework and a dance.

* * *

Helga stood on the corner of her street in the October wind, a jacket on her shoulders and a gray beanie on her head, and breathed in the brisk air. She felt pretty good. It was a new week, and so far Helga thought she was being an excellent polite acquaintance. She only said hello to Arnold when he said hello first and she had even, once, asked Arnold how he was liking the weather. _I am a genius_, she had thought. She went to the dance committee meetings and he was there, but so were twelve other kids. She just made a point of not sitting by him. There was only one slight hiccup of panic when she got stuck in a partnership with him for a project on Russian fairy tales. She had pulled it together, though, and had only snapped back at him once when he corrected her, "It's Baba Yaga, Helga, not Boba Yoda."

She had spent the weekend staying up late and reading blogs like _How to Have Successful Office Relationships_ and _Controlling Your Id: Zen's Only a Meditation Away!_ and one by someone named Dr. Loveless called _Becoming You without Him_on surviving breakups, just for the heck of it. Most of it was just a bunch of hooey, but, hey, why not. Most of them said stuff like, "You must set boundaries" or "Repeat to yourself: I think I can, I think I can" and Dr. Loveless told her to "Take the metaphorical head of your man-related problems and stick it on a metaphysical stake labelled 'Hell hath no furry'! And never be caught in your pajamas, darling—looking good means feeling good. Wear your best outfit, curl up with a tasty chocolate treat, and say, 'I. AM. BEAUTIFUL.'" She kinda liked that Loveless chick. She was pretty sure the "doctor" was totally off her rocker, but, hey. When a self-help blog tells you to eat chocolate, you eat it.

Now she was ready to put her weekend of acquired knowledge into practice.

"I," She stated out loud while rolling the kinks out of her neck, "Am a beast. I am a woman of the 21st century and I do not bow to the will of man."

"Good for you," Moze responded distractedly. He was leaning against a sad looking leafless tree planted along the sidewalk and didn't look up from his book when he talked to her.

She continued, "It's the beginning of a new week, and I will accomplish the goals set before me. I will crush the enemy. Nothing stands in my way. I shall conquer my self, no matter what luscious, flowing blond locks cross my path. No! I will become a stone. I will not swoon at a pretty pair of emerald eyes or a particularly nice smelling—watermelon, I think it is—shampoo."

"That all seems oddly specific."

Helga ignored him and paced on the curb's edge. "I have shunned love. I will not be the slave of my id. I will go on as I have done and accomplish great things. I will be a lawyer. Or a doctor. Nah, I couldn't handle wearing scrubs all the time. I'll be mayor. Or governor. Or a professional surfer. I can do anything. I will be so great, people will throw money at my feet, begging me to take it! I will have all I ever desired!"

"Wahoo, you'll be filthy rich," Moze turned a page, voice dripping with sarcasm, "And when you're old and alone, I'm sure your cold, hard money will be the perfect comfort."

Helga turned to him. "Criminy, kill joy. What's your problem?"

The bus pulled up behind Helga, breaks screeching, and Moze pushed away from the tree. "Sorry, Pataki, just stressed about some tests I have first period. I'm sure you'll be a great surfer."

"You bet I will!"

Helga climbed aboard the #12 bus after Moze, who sat with another senior at the front. Helga paused, looking at the bus driver—a pear shaped, frizzy haired, middle aged woman.

The driver grunted. "What? You gonna sit down, kid?"

Helga said, "How much do you get paid to do this job? Any cushy benefits? Free air-fresheners or seat cushions?"

"I wish. I wouldn't consider it as a future career if I were you, girly. Sit down."

"Yeah, yeah." Helga joined her friends in the back of the bus. Lenny had his legs stretched across the isle to rest them on the opposite seat and when she knocked them out of the way he said, "S'up, Pataki."

"You look awful chipper this overcast and depressing Monday morning," Teri said. Agatha was sitting beside him, nearly lost in his vast shadow, and practically drowning in the three colorful scarves she was wearing.

"Well maybe it's going to be a good day, Theresa." Helga sat in her usual lumpy seat. "Autumn is the perfect time to change your colors and shed your leaves."

Agatha asked, "Are you dying your hair?"

"No."

"Are you turning into an Ent?" Lenny asked.

"As in those old tree guys from Lord of the Rings?" She made a face at him like he was missing a few vastly important brain cells. "How would I turn into an Ent?"

Lenny shrugged. "Magic."

"Do I look like Gandolf to you, fool?"

"A little. Kinda have the same nose. And you are wearing gray. Maybe if we just tie your hair around your chin... " He leaned over his seat to pick up strands of her hair and then held them over her face. She smacked him.

"_No,_ I'm not turning into an Ent. I've simply realized some things about myself that have been a long time in the coming and I've been working on changing them."

"She's turning over a new leaf." Lenny said. "Get it?"

Teri ignored him and said to Helga, "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"Ohhh, just some things."

"I wish you wouldn't change anything," Agatha said, "I like you just the way you are."

"Well, thanks, Aggie, but you're probably the only one. Besides, they're all changes for the better. Just a little bit of sanding down around the edges."

Lenny said, "Your bark _is_ awfully rough."

"I will kill you."

"That's not like you, peaceful shepherd of the forest—ow, ow, ow!"

The East Siders made it to school with Lenny still alive and filed off the bus to stand on the damp sidewalk. As they entered the building, it was difficult to miss the new decorations that hung around the school, the most obvious of which was a large banner hanging across the front hall that said, "Eugene for president!" There were various posters and fliers on the walls with faces and slogans of senior, junior, and freshmen candidates, and a life size standee of Lila Sawyer was standing by the entrance, welcoming them. Frankly, the cardboard cut-out scared the begeezes out of Helga, who jumped at the site of it and "accidentally" knocked it over.

The halls swarmed with teenagers. Every twenty feet or so stood a student who was handing out merchandise, advertising whatever presidential candidate they were representing. Before they'd gotten half way through the first hall, Helga and her mates each had a glow stick necklace ("Glowing Gloria will light your way!"), pens with googly eyes and paper ears glued to them ("Jefferson sees and hears the problems of the Junior class!"), and a handful of jolly ranchers ("Have a Jolly time with Matt as Senior president!"). Lenny had gone back for another handful and was seeing how many he could fit in his mouth.

"You know," Teri said, "I'd say all this propaganda seems a little overboard, but, seriously, this is legit." He held up a button with a Pikachu on it that said "Gotta catch all the votes! Vote Ash Heinz!" "Heh heh, get it? His last name is Heinz?"

"What's ketchup have to do with—oh, I get it!" Lenny high fived him before taking a colorful lanyard being handed him. "Why, thank you! Actually, can I have that green one?"

"This school is very patriotic." Agatha said, taking kindly every flier held towards her.

"I dunno about that, Aggie," Helga said, "Looks like they're just trying to buy your vote." She slapped away a flier being shoved at her. "Democracy has officially gone to the ankle biting dogs. Who knows what these people even stand for."

"Helga!"

Helga jumped when she turned to find Sid in her face. He grinned at her.

"So, Helga, elections are on Friday." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Uh, ok."

"Do you know who you're voting for?"

She pushed him away. "I hadn't given it much thought."

"Well, then!" He untangled one of the few hundred woven bracelets he was carrying. "Let me just put in a little good word for Arnold." He put a pink one on her wrist with a wink.

Helga looked down at it. It had little beads that said "I Heart Arnold!" Sid passed out more bracelets to the others and they left him. Helga fingered the bracelet, not wanting it around her wrist but not willing to make a scene by ripping it off. She wondered what Dr. Loveless would say about something like this. She'd have to look it up later.

They passed a few seniors who seemed to be making a game of how many different presidential bracelets they could collect and both boys were covered in them up to their elbows. After looking at them, Helga began gathering more bracelets, some rubber, some yarn, and one made of candy. She felt better when the little pink one was nearly hidden by the rest, but she could still feel it, like a blister.

* * *

"Criminy, that was embarrassing." Helga said to Teri as they left their third period Literature class. Teri chuckled and she glared at him. "What are you laughing at, bucko? You wanna go?"

He said with a repressed smile, "I thought it was very good. I especially liked the part where you said—what was it?" He put a dramatic hand in the air. "'Forsooth, 'tis true! For this day the lady tames the lion and peace shall come in waves of sweet amber relief!'"

She punched him in the stomach, her face red. "Shut up."

He rubbed the sore spot with a wheeze. "Seriously, though, man, it was pretty good. No wonder Ms. P wanted you to read it out loud."

All Helga could hear was the echo of quiet laughter from her classmates minutes before. "If she ever makes me get up there again I'll choke her with that stupid boa she wears. How's that for a poetic death?"

"Tsk, tsk, violence! She can't help it if she just, and I quote, 'adores you, miss Pataki! Your understanding of the poetic soul is beyond what she has seen in _years_!'" He fluttered his eyelashes and pretended to throw an imaginary boa over one shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the next Emily Dickinson. Whatever."She thought to herself, _Poetry has always been my curse. But what better healer than that literary nurse?_ "Oh, shut up."

"I didn't say anything." Teri protested.

"I wasn't talking to you."

They made their way to the cafeteria, fighting off more hucksters with their presidential products. It was lightly raining outside, so the cafeteria was twice as crowded as it usually was during lunch. Helga and Teri were halfway through the lunch line when Agatha popped up behind them.

"Hey, Agatha!" Teri said to her brightly. "Where are you guys eating at?"

Agatha turned and pointed to a table on the other side of the noisy room. "We're just over there. We saved you a seat."

Helga groaned when she saw the table filled by Lenny, Phoebe and a familiar football head and his best friend. Agatha led the way and Helga followed warily.

Teri slid in next to Agatha, Lenny, and Phoebe. Helga hesitated for a second. There was an empty seat next to Arnold, and it was really the only seat, since the other bench was full, but Genghis Kahn couldn't get her to sit there. She sat next to Teri, shoving him over, and Phoebe, who was sitting on the other end of the bench, nearly fell off. Gerald, who was sitting next to Arnold on the roomy side of the table, said, "There's room over here."

"I'm good." She said, nose in the air. She was sitting across from Arnold, but she avoided all eye contact except the initial, "Hi."

"Hey." He responded cheerfully.

The others engaged in light conversation and Helga ate her tapioca, giving non-committal grunts whenever her answer was expected. When Gerald was showing Teri and Lenny his collection of I Heart Arnold bracelets, Arnold said to Helga, "So, did you get that list for Rhonda?"

At the dance committee meeting Rhonda and Ashlee, a senior who was also in charge of the dance, had split up the committee members into different groups to "divide and conquer". Helga and Arnold, along with three others, were in charge of decorations. Helga responded casually, "Kind of. Just jotted some stuff down, like pumpkins and bats or something."

"Yeah, me too. I'm not that great with décor, like Rhonda. I kinda wish I was in the food group, instead. Nadine told me they're thinking of ways to do zombie brains and tombstone cupcakes."

"Huh."

"I dunno, though, decorations can be fun. And we can have skeletons and strobe lights and stuff since it's the Halloween dance. Although, maybe not. The school might have policies against dead spirits. Maybe some parents would be against them."

"Could be."

"I don't understand why, though. I mean, so long as it's done tastefully, right? Where's the harm in a little Halloween tradition?"

"Nowhere."

"Exactly."

Helga thought, _I am so nailing this polite acquaintance stuff. Just listen to that casual banter we have going._

The group's conversations were interrupted when Sid slumped in next to Arnold and dumped his I Heart Arnold bracelets on the table. "Man, you would not believe the crazies out there! I just fought off a girl who was walking around, pulling every single one of our posters down and putting up Lila posters instead. Politics are brutal." He looked at Teri's untouched chicken sandwich. "Are you gonna eat that?" Teri the vegetarian slid it to him and Sid continued, mouth full, "Arnold, don't forget that after school's the Sophomore candidate photo, so I hope you brought something nice to wear. And Wednesday during first period they're doing the interviews for the school paper. Oh, and Thursday they're having a lunch for all the nominees, so you gotta be there. They told me they're catering Chez Paris, and I thought, boy howdy! Maybe next year _I'll_ run for president."

"I can't on Thursday, Sid." Arnold said.

"What? What do you mean you can't on Thursday, Sid? Didn't you hear, I said _Chez Paris_. Them's some fancy foods right there, man."

"I know, but I've got a dance committee meeting."

"Dude," Gerald interjected. "Free food. You do not turn down free food. There's a rule about it somewhere."

"Yeah!" Sid said, "Come on, the dance committee can stuff it. This is the presidency we're talking about here! We've got less than a week to make the world love you, baby!"

"Well, I dunno. I don't really care about being the president."

"Don't care about—! Arnold, I don't think you quite see what's going on here," Sid put an arm around Arnold's shoulder. "If you're the president, you get free food all the time. You get to skip class to roam the halls without question, and you're all the teachers' favorite student so you practically never fail. Every body loves you, especially the girls, you get to go to the student council class during fourth period instead of a normal class and goof around, and don't even get me started on the scholarships available for you when you're gettin' ready for college!"

"Dude," Lenny said longingly. "I wanna be president."

Sid nodded at him excitedly, "I know, right! It's like the sweetest, easiest gig ever!"

"Well it's not always that simple," Phoebe said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "The student council is in charge of all events put on by the school. They also have the obligation of surveying the student body to understand our needs in order to better mediate between us and the faculty. Not to mention they serve as official representatives of the school in the community. It's a very time consuming job."

"Yeah, but it's worth it," Gerald said, "Last year, I walked past the student council class once, and they were eating waffles in a circle on the floor. They were eating waffles during fourth period, right after lunch. On the _floor_. Yeah, man."

"Mmm, waffles," Teri sighed and munched on his baby carrots.

"All that stuff sounds great, Sid," Arnold said in his soft voice, "But I'd still rather just drop out of the race."

"How come?"

"It just takes so much time. I've got basketball, and I have to help my grandparents after school. And I've never even thought of being president. I just don't think I'm cut out—"

Helga, very abruptly, slammed a hand down on the table, making everyone jump. "Criminy, Arnold!"

He looked at her with wide eyes. "What?"

All the while everyone had been talking, Helga had been thinking. At first, she had inwardly groaned. The last thing she wanted was for Arnold to become president, because that would mean she'd see him all the time. He'd be on stage at assemblies, his voice would be on the morning announcements, and he'd be in charge of and present at every major school event. It was already annoying enough, what with all the posters of him making her jump every time she rounded a corner. She was just thankful no one had made a creepy standee of him like they had Lila.

Then, as the others had talked about the entailments of presidency, Helga's mind had changed. If Arnold became president, he would be busy, extremely busy. He'd be gone at lunch sometimes for meetings, he'd have to stay late after school to help with whatever, and, best of all, he would have to transfer out of the fourth period class they had together so he could go to some fancy-pants student council class. She would hardly ever see him! He'd only be a figure on stage during assemblies, and if she sat in the back of the auditorium, she'd barely be able to make out who he was. If he became president, she wouldn't even have to avoid him, he'd just no longer be around!

She was suddenly, vehemently determined that he _needed_ to be president.

"Arnold," She said, "Out of all the students of the Sophomore class, _you_ were nominated. What, you gonna chicken out now? You can't just _not _try! It's your patriotic duty to uphold the standards of democracy in our school!"

"It is?"

"Of course it is!" She crossed her arms. "I mean, you think Eugene or _Lila _would be a better president? Ha, I don't think so. You're obviously the best choice." And she really did believe that. She thought he'd be a great president. Which would just make it easier for him to get elected. "You just gotta take charge, Arnold. No more of this wishy-washy-wussy stuff."

"You really think I'd be good at it, Helga?" Arnold asked after a second.

"You bet I do." She responded firmly.

"I think you'd be good, too," Gerald said.

"Me too!" Phoebe exclaimed and Lenny and Teri agreed, while Agatha nodded.

"Well," Arnold smiled round at them. "I guess so. So long as you guys back me up."

"Now we're gettin' somewhere!" Sid rubbed his hands together. "All right, Team Arnold is so going to taste sweet victory on Friday!"

"Yeah we are!" Gerald high fived Phoebe and Lenny, who were directly across from him.

"So, Helga," Sid said slowly, leaning towards her, "You think Arnold will be a good president?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah. I just said that, didn't I?"

"You did. Just making sure I heard you correctly. If you think he'd make a good president, then you probably really like him, huh?" Helga didn't have to respond, however, because just then Arnold kicked him under the table. "Ow!" Sid looked at him and Arnold looked back through narrowed eyes. "What?"

"Don't you have more bracelets to pass out or something?"

"Yeah, I guess break's over. I'm off!" Sid gathered the woven bands from the table, and Helga started doing the same.

"I'll help you," She stood with a handful in one fist.

"You don't have to do that, Helga," Arnold said as she stepped away from the table.

"Sure I do. You don't worry your oblong little head," She said. "Helga Pataki is on the job." She walked away, twirling one of the bracelets around a finger. _I'm so the best polite acquaintance ever. This election is going to be a piece of cake._

* * *

During lunch Arnold had felt a little pinprick of glee when Helga so avidly supported his campaign. Maybe she didn't dislike him as much as he had thought. She certainly was being friendlier since her triumph at basketball the week before. She also seemed to think he could be president, and whatever else Helga may be, she was often very right. So he'd thought, _Why not?_ He'd give presidency a whirl.

After school he met with all the other candidates in the student council classroom, and stood with Eugene and Lila while they waited their turn for their group picture.

Lila, who had grown out of the little girl braids and country clothes for a stylish grown up look, smiled at the two boys and said she was "Ever so happy they were all a part of this! It would be very exciting, and she was looking forward to working with them."

Eugene said, "Gosh, aren't we all so grown up? Seems like it was just last week we were all in Mr. Simmons' class, causing trouble." Then he asked Lila and Arnold to sign the new cast he had on his leg, saying, "I broke it while choreographing the last scene of Hairspray. I gladly suffer for my art."

Arnold agreed that it seemed funny they were all old enough to be running for class president. He'd known Lila and Eugene practically forever, and it seemed a bit surreal when he thought about them being in high school. It was surreal that they were old, that many of their friends had drivers licenses, that Rhonda and Harold were dating, that Eugene was a star, that Gerald would soon be captain of the basketball team, and that Helga was back... He was so distracted by the surreality of it all that he accidentally bumped a light stand while getting into position standing behind Lila, and it fell on Eugene. A couple of the other girls in the room cried, "Eugene!" and ran to his assistance. Lila exclaimed, "Oh my goodness! Stand back! I know first aid!" Arnold said, "Eugene! I'm sorry! Are you ok?" The camera guy chewed his gum, slicked his comb-over down, and drawled out, "Everyone say cheeeeeese." _Click._

That year in the yearbook the Sophomore presidential-candidate photo (on page 34, right next to the actual president's photo) was of a broken light stand, Eugene on the floor, girls kneeling over him, and Arnold in the back, saying awkwardly, "Cheese..."

After apologizing profusely to Eugene and making sure his broken leg was ok and he was steady on his crutches, Arnold left the school. He threw his jacket and scarf on and walked around the building towards the gym for basketball practice.

He turned a corner of the school and stopped dead. Ahead of him, to the right of the school doors, was a little makeshift platform of old crates. As students left the school and headed towards the buses, some paused to listen or join the crowd gathered around the platform. Standing on top of it was Gerald and Helga, passing a megaphone back and forth as they spoke to the crowd. Hanging behind them was a giant banner that said, "Look no further: Arnold's your man!" Sid stood to the side, arms crossed and nodding proudly.

As Arnold inched forward, Gerald had the megaphone, and he was saying in his best Hispanic accent, _"__If you vote for Arnold, all of your wildest dreams will come true_!"

There was a small collective chuckle from the crowd and Helga rolled her eyes and took the megaphone back. She said into it, "_Yes, thank you for that, Geraldo. Anyway, if you're looking for a president who will really take care of you, who will know and fulfill your needs, then you really just ought to get off your keister and vote for Arnold. He's the best option for president, obviously. Oh, look, here he is_!"

Arnold swallowed when the crowd turned in his direction. "Uh, hi."

"_C'mere, Shortman_!" Helga called. "_Come say something to your people_!"

Arnold hesitantly approached and hopped onto the platform. Helga handed him the megaphone and backed away, clapping. A few people in the crowd clapped weakly and everyone else just stared up at him, bored. Nadine and Sheena were among the audience and they waved at him. He pushed the megaphone button and winced when it shrilled at him from feedback. He swallowed and tried again. "_Uh, sorry about that,_" He said into it, not really liking how his voice echoed. "_Hey, everyone. Um, I'm Arnold._"

"We know, Arnold," Helga said dryly. "Don't put 'em to sleep."

"Talk about how awesome you are," Gerald encouraged.

"_Uh, yep. So I'm running for president. And, er, if you vote for me...all of your wildest dreams will come true_?" Behind him Helga snorted and Gerald gave a peace sign. "_And, uh, I will always...make sure to, uh, take the side of the Sophomore class and the student body, to, uh, ensure that you are properly represented_." He stopped talking and the crowd just stared at him blankly.

Helga started clapping again, and Arnold was pretty sure only Gerald and Sid joined in. Helga took the megaphone back, which Arnold was only too glad to hand over. "_Well, isn't he just a peach_?" She said into it. "_There's Arnold for you, everybody. You'll get nothin' but sincerity from our man here. Honesty is the best quality in a politician, and Arnold's got loads of it. There's no doubt that he's the best candidate for the job, because, heh, let's face it, the other two are just a joke. Am I right_?"

The only answer came from the very back of the crowd: "Indeed, not. You are quite wrong." The audience turned and split down the middle as Curly walked towards the platform. He was grinning widely—too widely. On his jacket was a button that said, "Eugene!"

"_Oh, yeah_?" Helga said down at him, the megaphone ringing. "_Who are you voting for, then_?"

"I," Curly tapped his "Eugene!" button slowly. "Will be voting for Eugene. The only _proper_ candidate for Sophomore president."

"_Pfft! Ha! I don't think so, Curly Temple_," Helga looked back at Arnold and Gerald and pointed at Curly in a "can you believe this guy?" sort of way, then said, "_I'm pretty sure Arnold will be a better __president than Eugene_."

Curly took his glasses off and rubbed them on his shirt calmly. "Well. I look forward to competing against you in the upcoming race."

"Competing? How so?" Gerald said. "It's not like you're the one running for president."

Curly put his glasses back on, and his head was tilted just enough that the glare on the glass hid his eyes. "Well, you see, I'm Eugene's campaign manager. Do you know why I'm Eugene's campaign manager?"

"_Why_?" Helga asked just to humor him.

"Because I'm not Arnold's campaign manager. Do you know why I'm not Arnold's campaign manager?"

Helga looked back at Arnold, who shrugged. "_Is there a point to this_?" she said to Curly.

Curly ignored her question. "You don't know? Well, me neither." His grin widened. "Even though he promised me, exactly two years and 48 days ago, that if he ever ran for student council, he'd take me with him. Has he done that? Hmm. No. He hasn't. No matter. I will simply have to take him down. I have no choice but to crush him. And anyone on his side, of course." Suddenly, his calmness was only magnifying his creepyness. The few students next to him took a step back as a dark chuckle escaped his throat.

Helga just scoffed. "_Bring it on, psychopath_."

Arnold knew that, despite Curly's more grown up appearance, his combed hair and pressed jeans, he still had a tendency to take revenge a little far. He quickly stepped forward and took the megaphone from Helga to keep her from using it. "Sorry, Curly, I totally forgot I said that to you." He was pretty sure he had never actually promised anything of the sort, but with Curly, you do not question.

Curly pointed an accusing finger at Arnold, and his calmness dissipated. "Oh, no, you don't! Apologies are useless, Arnold! I will make it to the top of the social ladder! I deserve it! It is my right as a Gamelthorpe! And I will use you and your precious little campaign manager as my stepping stool!"

Sid hid behind the banner.

Curly turned to the crowd. "Eugene _will _be president, and anyone who knows what's good for them will vote for him! Got that, peasants?"

Everyone just stared at him.

"Eugene will not be president." said a new voice.

The crowd, including those on stage, turned to the new comer. He was tall, with auburn hair and brown eyes, and he was wearing a gray blazer and a blue checkered bow tie.

"R.J." Gerald said coldly.

"Gerald," R.J. White replied in the same tone. He turned to Curly, "Eugene has only won in your mind, little person. With my help, Lila is sure to win when the real election rolls around. The others don't stand a chance."

Helga crossed her arms. "Tch, there's no way Arnold's losing against _Lila Sawyer. _Right, Arnold?"

"Uh..." Was Arnold's reply.

Curly just said, "_Little _person?" with disgust.

R.J. looked at them all as if they were naïve little children. "Oh, come now! You don't seriously think your little friend has a chance, do you?" He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, please, that's too funny! No, indeed." He raised an eyebrow and looked Arnold up and down. "_Arnold_, as you call him, is completely incompetent to run the Sophomore class."

"_Excuse_ me?" Gerald sneered and at the same time Helga said, "We call him that because it's his _name_, idiot."

Sid, who had come out from behind the banner, crossed his arms. "Who's the hoity toity?"

R.J. ignored them all and spoke to Arnold. "But I suppose you can have your fun. I won't even try to stop you—you are absolutely no threat to me. You're little campaign is just a joke, really. We all know that it has nothing to do with politics, anyway. It all has to do with who you know and how much money you have, and in both respects, Lila is superior."

"Well, Arnold knows everyone—" Helga was cut off by Arnold:

"It's not about who you know and money," He said seriously. "It's not really about politics, either. It's about teamwork. It's teaching the student body how to understand democracy and work together. Look at how many people have already been helping with posters and stuff—they want to be a part of something bigger. It's about leadership and unity. You can't be president if no one follows you, and no one will follow you unless you lead them where they want to go. Where are _you_ leading them, R.J.?" No one else said anything. Arnold was vaguely aware that the crowd was listening intently and that, next to him, Helga was starring at him.

R.J. raised his eyebrows. "Well, well. St. Arnold. Perhaps you will be some competition, after all." Then R.J. turned and headed out the school gates.

Gerald grumbled angrily, "Man, I hate that guy."

Curly, ignored until R.J. was gone, was repeating to himself, "Little person? Little person? Ooh, he will pay..." A chuckle began low in his throat and rose slowly. He turned and began walking away, the other students quickly giving him space, and by the time it was a full out maniac's laugh, he was nearly gone.

"You know, sometimes..." Arnold began.

"...Curly gives me the serious heebie jeebies." Gerald finished.

"Yeesh. Guess some people never change. Weird little toad." Helga said.

Arnold handed the megaphone he was still holding to Sid and stepped off the platform. Gerald and Helga followed, and behind them, Sid said with the big voice, "_All right, people. After that little display, who ya gonna vote for_?"

An echo of "Arnold!" was the reply he got.

"Well done, football head," Helga said as reached the sidewalk. "All that hooey about leadership and teamwork and junk was pretty good."

"It's not hooey, Helga," Arnold replied. "I think that's what it's really about. Or at least what it should be about."

"Uh-huh." And she didn't sound disbelieving. She sounded like she agreed.

They reached the point where the boys needed to break off to head to basketball practice. Teri was ahead of them and he waved. Helga waved back and Gerald went to catch up to him. Arnold paused by Helga, who was leaving to go find her bus.

"Hey," he said, stopping her.

"Yeah?" She turned back to him.

But he didn't really have anything to say. He just looked at her. As Arnold had suspected early that morning, it had started drizzling, and the wind was picking up. It whipped Helga's hair around her, tangling it. She shivered.

"If you have something to say, say it," She said. "I'm freezing my butt off out here."

He grinned.

"Is there something funny about freezing your butt off?" She asked.

"No. Here." He reached up and pulled the scarf he was wearing off. Stepping forward he draped it around Helga's neck.

She made a face like she'd just swallowed a spider. "What's this?" She asked.

"A scarf. You said you were cold."

She scoffed. "Oh, please. I'm not one of those frail little weak prissies who needs constant care. Take your seriously misplaced sympathy and give it to someone who wants it." She began taking the scarf off.

He gave her a half-lided smile. He'd known Helga too long to be scared off by her brutish responses. "You're right, you're not like that. But you are still a girl." He stepped away, preventing her from handing back the scarf, and said flippantly, "Someone's gotta make sure you don't freeze your butt off." He turned toward Gerald and Teri.

"Pfft, uh, yeah, whatever!" But she really couldn't argue with his retreating back.

Walking away, he felt rather cheeky. He looked back once to see Helga fingering the scarf gently, for all her huffing and puffing about not wanting it. _She's cute_, he thought. Then he jogged to catch up his friends. Teri patted his shoulder and said, "That was nice of you. Gotta say, though, it looks better on her than on you. Pink's not your color, man."

Gerald looked at Helga then at Arnold as if he'd just sprouted antlers.

* * *

The scarf thing had freaked Helga out. Like, legitimately. As a kid she probably would have thrown it to the ground and not taken it, but as a sixteen year old she figured she couldn't do that. Too freaked to actually wear it, though, she had stuffed it in her backpack and then ridden the bus home in a tense silence. Agatha had asked her if she was feeling ok, to which Helga only responded stiffly that she was fine. It took her the whole ride and three glasses of whatever gosh-awful smoothie Miriam had made before she was able to calm her heart and think rationally again.

_I must be way better at being a polite acquaintance than I thought._ Before, when she had known him as a kid, she had always been nasty and pushy so they had never gotten to this level before. But she'd seen him be nice to all the other girls, and no doubt he would have given anyone else the scarf if he saw they were cold. In fact, last Friday she'd watched him hand his umbrella off to a group of girls hovering inside the school, afraid to go out in the rain. He was just that way, of course, and now that she wasn't spazzing out and shoving him to the ground every five seconds, he was free to be that way with her, too. He was just being friendly. He meant nothing by it.

And then she was ticked off. _What the heck? Does the football head want to give every girl a heart attack? He thinks he's being all gentlemanly, but, really, girls will get the wrong idea if he keeps doing that. Girls will think there's more to it than just being friendly._

_ Girls like me._

_ I gotta get rid of him._

She stomped down the hallway and slammed open Big Bob's office, interrupting his watching a football game. He turned to her, indignant. "Criminy, Helga, what do you think you're doing? Can't you see I'm in the middle of—"

"Dad, get your wallet! We got work to do!"

* * *

A/N: Uh-huh.

...Why do I even bother with author's notes? I never have anything worth while to say.


	5. Propaganda With a Vengeance

A/N: I...have nothing to say.

Bartlett.

Chapter 5: Propaganda With a Vengeance

Tuesday began before even the sun was up. Helga got a ride to school from Big Bob, who complained the whole time about it being too early, and then she convinced the janitor to let her in. Then she proceeded to hang fresh posters of Arnold that said things like, "Where are _you_ being led?" and "It's time to be a part of something bigger." She, herself, had commissioned a standee from Big Bob's Beepers standee guy—it was of Arnold in his basketball uniform, holding a ball. It was a picture she'd gotten from Phoebe's year book last year. Then Helga thought that wasn't enough, so she ordered a few more standees, one of Arnold with a baseball bat over his shoulder, and one of him from when he was fourteen, waving at the camera. These she set up at the front door, cafeteria door, and library door.

She also had about two hundred more I Heart Arnold bracelets, and had made matching I Heart Arnold necklaces, rings, headbands, and temporary tattoos. She left her jacket in her locker, and her T-shirt was pink and had Arnold's face on the front, with the words, "I'm Team Arnold, Are You?" on the back. She had three more boxes full of matching shirts. Big Bob had hardly hesitated in giving her the money to accomplish it all, so long as she'd go away and let him finish his game.

Then Helga stood at the front door of the school, completely confidant and prepared, waiting for the students to arrive.

She passed out bracelets and necklaces, and even haggled Teri, Lenny, and Agatha to help pass out some of the rest of it. She was feeling pretty good, watching high schoolers walking away with her merchandise, until she heard something going on outside.

R.J. had driven a large red convertible through the gates and onto the blacktop. Standing on the hood of it now was some DJ that Helga didn't recognize, but who was evidently very popular by the crowd standing around the car. The DJ had a microphone, and he was rapping some crap song about Lila. Lila herself was standing all pretty like on top of the car, looking adorable and cold with her scarf and cup of hot cider. Helga had grumbled and followed the power cords until she found where the amp was plugged in. She "accidentally" unplugged it and ran back inside.

Back in the school, Helga found her posters had all been replaced by large floor to ceiling banners of Eugene. They were all pictures of Eugene on stage—everything from him as Le Fou from Beauty and the Beast, to one of him as the Phantom, to Newsies, Grayson from Milly, the Music Man, Anything Goes...The posters just kept going. Helga pulled out a sharpy, drew mustaches on all of them, and wrote on his (multiple) chests, "I Heart Arnold." Then she stood under the one of Eugene as the Phantom and said to all those who passed, "The Phantom loves Arnold! How about you?" She was able to pass out all of her bracelets, and nearly all of the necklaces, that way. Aggie stood by her and passed out shirts to anyone who wanted one, so by the time the #13 bus had pulled up, a hundred kids were wearing Arnold's face.

"Oh. My. Gosh." Rhonda said when the #13 group entered the school. "Look at those hideous shirts. I hope they were paid well to wear them."

"Man, look at the nerd herd," Harold said. He stopped a kid passing by in a pink shirt by pointing at his chest. "What's that?" The kid looked down and Harold flicked his nose.

"Jee," Stinky eyed an Arnold standee, "Is it just me, or is that real spooky?" The standee just stared back, unblinking.

Gerald looked at it sidelong, like it might suddenly move, "Mm-mm! That just ain't right."

A few students in pepto-pink Team Arnold shirts spotted Arnold and waved excitedly. Arnold waved back hesitantly. "Those posters of Eugene are huge," He said.

Phoebe said, "My goodness, it seems the campaign managers have really gone all out."

"Nut-uh," Came Sid from behind them. "I didn't do this."

Helga wasn't hard to find, since she was standing on a chair just below a looming figure of the Phantom in his skeletal mask. Helga was a real sight; she was covered in Arnold products, her hair was disheveled, and despite there being dark bags under her eyes as if she hadn't slept at all the night before, she looked wide awake, to the point where she seemed a little possessed.

She jumped down from the chair when she saw them and grabbed a box from the floor, "Here, Sid, pass these out." She shoved it in his arms. Sid looked into the box and exclaimed at how much was in it but Helga simply shooed him away, along with Stinky and Harold, into the flow of students still entering the school. She took a can of Red Bull from another box at her feet and opened the tab before throwing her head back and swigging it down.

"Wow, Helga," Arnold said. "This is a lot of—"

She held out a hand for him to stop while she continued to drink. Just when they thought she might suffocate if she didn't breath soon, she finished off the liquid caffeine and gasped. She crushed the can and tossed it over her shoulder. "You were saying?"

"Uh, yeah. This is a lot of stuff. How'd you do all this?"

She shrugged and picked up another can of Red Bull. "Meh, all it took was a little bit of twisting Bob's arm. Eventually he handed over the cash."

Rhonda said, "I just love the T-shirts, Helga. And these posters of Eugene are very nice, I must ask Curly where he had them done."

"What's with the mustaches?" Gerald asked, looking up at the Phantom.

Helga looked down at the sharpy sticking out of her front pocket. She grabbed it and tossed it over her shoulder, but they had all seen it.

"You did that?" Arnold said. "You shouldn't mess with their stuff, Helga, I don't think it's fair."

"Arnold, Arnold," She took a gulp of her Red Bull. "This whole game isn't fair. Just a few minutes ago R.J. walked by, passing out raffle tickets for that pretty car outside, but only to people who agreed to change their vote from you to Lila. He's just givin' away a car! Tell me how that's fair. Half of them said yes, the traitors."

"You took a raffle ticket," Agatha spoke up.

Arnold gave Helga a reproachful look. She held up her hands. "Hey, I don't pass up a chance for free anything. No worries, I'm still voting for you."

He rolled his eyes.

Helga pulled a number of shirts from Agatha's arms and passed them around. Rhonda politely refused hers. Arnold looked down at his own face, which grinned cheesily back. His shirt was a special one, because on the back it said, "Hi, I'm Arnold, please vote for me!" instead of the usual saying. He asked, "Do I have to wear this?"

"Yes," Helga said. "How else will people know who you are? Doi."

He didn't bother pointing out the problems with that logic. He removed his jacket and pulled the shirt on. Gerald snickered. "What's so funny?" Arnold said.

"Nothin', man, nothin'." Gerald rubbed his belly, which, with his own shirt already on, was the picture of Arnold's face. "I just love being Team Arnold, is all." He waved at a couple girls who giggled at him as they walked by. "Hey, ladies. This is Arnold. Says so on his shirt. Arnold, say hi."

"Hi..." He turned to Gerald when he chuckled. "Shut up."

Helga herded both boys down the hall with orders to "meet the common people and kiss some butts".

"I feel like a ham..." Arnold said to Gerald as they left.

"You look like a ham," Gerald followed behind him, vastly amused, and introduced Arnold to anyone who passed by them.

"Well, ladies, it's been swell," Rhonda said, "But I'm off to find R.J.—a red convertible is just what I need to brighten my day. Ta-ta."

Helga took another large swig of her Red Bull and looked at it with surprise. "Empty." She looked in the box. "Phoebe, I'm out of Red Bull."

"More Red Bull, got it." Phoebe scurried away.

Helga retook her place on the chair and she and Agatha passed out everything else they could until the bell rang. First period started then, and all the students trudged off to class. Once there, Helga was horrified when the announcements came on and Curly's voice came through the speaker system, scratchy and distorted from the old machinery.

"Good morning, Hedgehogs!" He said cheerfully. "A fine fall day we're having! And, because he cares, Eugene has brought you all a special treat! Right after first period, there will be doughnuts and hot chocolate in the drama room! Courtesy of Eugene Horowitz! Vote him for Sophomore class president!" Then he got off and some other people got on for Junior and Freshman class elections, but Helga was done listening.

When the period was over, Helga headed straight to the drama room and right to the front of the line. She cut in front of some girl and grabbed a doughnut and Styrofoam cup. She bit a large chunk of doughnut off before fake choking and spitting it out—"Ew! Holy guacamole, it's moldy!" She said loudly. The line of waiting students turned to her. She took a large gulp of hot cocoa before spitting that out, too. "What is _in_ that? What's he trying to do, kill us? No thanks!" Throwing away the doughnut and cup dramatically, she stomped out of the room. The girl that had been behind her put her doughnut back and left with the majority of the line. Only a few brave souls, all boys, stayed to risk the supposedly moldy food. Curly, who was sitting behind the table of treats, shook his fist after Helga, "Just you wait, Pataki!"

Her second period pottery class went by without a glitch, and all Helga had to do was stand at the front of the class and say that Arnold was a great guy. Then she passed out the temporary tattoos, which the students thought were awesome and stuck anywhere where skin was showing (and a few places where skin wasn't showing), and Mrs. Juarez looked at Helga's shirt and said, "Oh! What an artisan you are, _senorita_ Helga! Such an artistically shaped head!" She had obviously never seen the real Arnold.

During the five minutes between second and third, Helga passed a stage in the hall where a hotdog eating contest for the football team was about to start in honor of Lila. Helga jumped up and took some linebacker's place. She owned all those boys at eating dogs, and when the bell rang, signaling the end of the contest, she stood up, fists in the air, and said, "Arnold for president!" There was a rather loud cheer, and some astonished, "Wait, she's a _girl_? Geez, can she put away food." R.J., standing on the edge of the stage, said happily, "Yes, you've won! Which means you get the prize!"

Helga perked up. "There's a prize?"

"Of course, and it's the wonderful feeling of donating to our cause! Give the lady a hand!" He led the on-lookers in an applause.

"What! I have to pay _you_?"

He gave her a pretentious smile. "Those were the rules."

Behind Helga, a football player said, "Man, I wanted to donate to Lila. She's the prettiest girl in school."

R.J. said, "Will that be cash, or check?" and Helga was just about to deck him when a rumbling down the hall made everyone turn. Coming towards them, surprisingly fast, was a ride-on floor waxer. It was large and gray and old, and looked like it was smoking in some parts. Driving it, of course, was Curly. There was scrambling and some screams (and some maniacal laughter) as the machine bull-dozed straight toward them. Helga booked it out of there with the rest of the crowd, and Curly rammed the waxer straight into the stage, "In the name of Eugene!", sending splinters of wood flying.

Curly wasn't the only crazy kid to be taking the campaigning seriously. The normal student body had picked up on the competition vibe and had started segregating into three groups, Arnoldites, Lilonians, and Eugeners. On the second floor, a war broke out during a debate class (when their discussion about the elections got out of hand) and they overturned desks as forts and started tossing pens, rulers, and safety scissors at each other. A rather vicious mosh pit began in the band room, when R.J. came in and, quite literally, started tossing dollar bills towards them. The co-ed P.E. classes separated into boys against girls, all the boys for Lila, and the girls for either Arnold or Eugene, and started an Olympic tournament to determine the winner. Even the library got a little noisy when a Eugener insulted a rather sensitive Arnoldite about his ridiculous shirt and a row ensued.

The only people really happy about all the going ons was the journalism club. The reporters were having a hay-day with all the interesting news, and more than once the club president (Peapod Kid in a fedora and trench coat) could be seen running down the hall, followed by a camera man and shouting, "Oh, my, this is terribly, terribly distressing!"

Helga left third period early in order to set up a projector screen in the cafeteria. She had rummaged through the shrine in the back of her closet and found her old pictures of Arnold, from him in diapers to some Phoebe had given her of him as a young teen, and had made them into a slide show, complete with music. She waited until the bell rang and students started filing in before she turned it on, but when the pictures started flashing by, none of them were of Arnold. Actually, every single one of them was of Curly. She screamed.

Then Lila came in. Her hair was cut to just above her shoulders and she was wearing an attractive sweater, skirt, and boots. Helga tired not to roll her eyes when Lila said, "It's ever so good to see you again, Helga!"

"Yeah-huh. Whoopee."

Lila stood at the end of the food bar with a basket of cookies shaped like her face. It was hard to tell if every guy that took one was drooling over the cookie, or over Lila, but either way she had 'em coming back for seconds.

Eugene came a little later, followed by a guy with a saxophone, an upright bassist, and a girl wheeling in an amp and carrying an electric guitar. They set up in the corner, and pretty soon the cafeteria echoed with some indie-rock and Eugene's surprisingly smooth baritone voice.

Arnold and Phoebe took a seat at a table nearby and Gerald followed soon after. They listened to Eugene's band and watched Helga pace back and forth and bite her nails.

"Sheesh," Gerald shook his head at Helga. "She sure is acting more crazy than usual today."

"She told me she was up all night, making bracelets." Phoebe said. "And she's had more caffeine than is advisable."

Arnold watched her take a sip of the Red Bull she was holding and wipe her mouth on the back of her hand. "I wonder what's bugging her."

"What do you mean, 'what's buggin her'?" Gerald said. "Nothing's bugging her, she's just really, really into your whole campaign. You should be happy, Arnold. Your plan to make her like you worked." Gerald took a bite of his pizza. "Just look at all the stuff she's done."

"I don't think that's it, Gerald," Arnold said. "She's acting kind of weird. I think it's something else." Phoebe nodded in agreement.

"And how would you know, Arnold?" Gerald said. "She hardly ever talks to you. She's had a lot of caffeine is all."

Arnold just watched Helga, who was giving a couple bracelets from her wrist to some girl. The girl walked away with a flirtatious wave at Arnold, and Helga shot a look over her shoulder at him, only for a split second, before resuming nervous pacing.

"Where," Helga said to herself, "In the heck is Sid? He said he was going to lead a rally in here, dang it..."

(Sid was actually, at that very moment, locked in a broom closet. R.J. had shoved him in while he was walking by, and shut it behind him. Sid pounded on the door, but even when someone did try to let him out, they just found that it was locked. That was the day the urban legend began about a kid who got murdered and whose body was stuffed in the broom closet.

"They say," Gerald said ominously to a group of Freshmen later that day, "That he was killed because he voted for the wroooong president. You see, he was the tie-breaker, and, well, he picked the wrong person to vote for. It's a shame—he was just a kid, like any of you. And all he did was make one simple mistake... And now you can hear him sometimes, pounding, pounding on the door and saying," His voice grew higher and breathier, "'Let me out! I'll change my vote! I swear! Don't leave me in heeeeeerreeee!'" Gerald was a notorious storyteller, considered an expert on all local legends, and even his most outrageous tales were often taken for fact. This one was easily believed, since poor Sid really was yelling those words through the door in hopes of getting someone to let him out.

It was a decade before that legend died out, and until then class elections were taken far more seriously by the students, who were all afraid that if they made the wrong choice the ghost from the broom closet would murder them.)

Back in the cafeteria, Helga was beginning to panic at the growing crowds around both Eugene and Lila. Lenny walked by then, carrying his tray and heading to the table where Arnold was, Teri and Agatha a step behind him. "Hey, Pataki," He said. Helga looked at him, then down at his tray. She grabbed his potato salad off of it and walked away.

"No need to be graby, just ask if you're hungry," Lenny said after her, but she ignored him. Lenny, Arnold, and the others all watched her walk purposefully across the cafeteria, stop a few feet behind Eugene's crowd, pull back her arm, and hurl the potato salad at the closest kid.

"Oh, man," Gerald didn't know to laugh or shake his head pitifully.

"She's snapped," Arnold said with astonishment. Everyone else just stared.

The kid with potato salad on the back of his head whirled around, angry. "Hey!" His eyes landed on Helga as she walked toward him, a hand on her cheek.

"Oh my goodness!" She said sweetly. "Are you all right?"

"Did you throw that at me?" He demanded.

She shook her head, eyes wide. "No! I would never!" Taking a napkin from a nearby table she helped him wipe off the potato salad.

"Did you see who did?" He asked.

She put a finger to her chin. "Well...I think..." She turned towards Lila's groupies. "I think it was him." She pointed at Wolfgang.

"Him?" The boy asked.

Helga nodded. "I'm ever so certain. I'm not surprised, though. Those Lila supporters are so rude. My goodness, you should of heard what they were saying about poor, dear Eugene! They think he's really just a joke and any of his followers are just sad losers." She clucked her tongue and shook her head.

There was no need to say more—the boy was already livid. He said to her, "You might want to get out of the way, I don't want you to get hurt." To which she responded, "Oh my!" Then the boy grabbed a saucer of blue jell-o and hurled it across the cafeteria. Impressively enough, it found its target, splattering against Wolfgang's shoulder and spraying Lila with jell-o in the process. There were exclamations from the group of, "What the fudge muffin?" "Who did that?" "Are you ok, Lila?" and Wolfgang spun around to lay eyes on the boy.

The boy crossed his arms, "That was for Eugene!" He said.

"Oh yeah?" Wolfgang replied. He grabbed a jell-o splattered cookie from Lila's basket and chucked it back. It smacked Eugene right in the face and since he was already unstable on his crutches, he flew back into the saxophone player. Eugene's crowd and Lila's crowd both turned on each other menacingly. Helga backed away, snickering. She froze when Curly popped out of nowhere and shouted, "She's the one who started this! GET HER!"

Then all heck broke loose.

* * *

Helga walked into her fourth period class, covered in apple sauce, left-over green bean casserole, and pumpkin spice frosting. She wasn't the only one sporting the new style of "wearing your lunch"—there were quite a few others in the class who were trying to brush crumbs out of their hair or off their clothes. Arnold wasn't one of them; in fact, he wasn't there.

Helga sat in her seat at the front, waited until the teacher took roll, then raised her hand.

"Yes, Helga?"

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Class just started, Helga. You should have gone during lunch."

"I didn't have to go then. Now I do. Sorry, teach, it's a lady problem."

"A lady—oh, oh! Yes, of course, go ahead."

Helga left. She didn't head to the bathroom, however, but straight towards the front offices. She passed by administration and attendance and stopped directly outside of the principal's office. There was no window in the door, so she couldn't see inside, but she knew Arnold was in there. She pressed an ear against the wood but couldn't hear anything.

She turned and headed to the nearest exit to the outside, headed down the school steps, and rounded the building. She counted windows the whole while and eventually stopped just where she thought the principal's window must be. More than anything she wanted to look inside but it was too tall for her to reach. There was a set of dumpsters to her left, but they were too far away to be of any use to her.

"Dang it all!" She said. "This is my fault! Curse my rebellious and unpredictable id! Why did I have to throw that potato salad?"

The food war had been intense. Whoever said teenagers were supposedly more mature than five year olds was dead, dead wrong, because the scene from fifteen minutes ago said otherwise. Food had covered every surface and landed in everyone's hair. Teachers ran back and forth squawking and shrieking and getting pummeled with food themselves. The students were segregated into their three groups, huddling together for safety, then coming up with strategies of how to best invade the other teams. Agatha's hair had looked like a rainbow of food while she just stood in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do. Lenny and Stinky were standing on top of a table, tossing banana peels into the middle of the other groups and laughing when someone slipped on them. Rhonda had been in a corner, furiously trying to clean her designer pants off, and then becoming so fed up she tossed a piece of cake at Nadine, who threw pasta salad back at her. Then they apologized and headed to the girls' locker room to clean up. Harold wasn't on a specific team—he simply threw food at anyone in front of him. Teri hovered over Phoebe, protecting her from food as she drew out a plan on a piece of paper. Gerald had watched her draw it, nodding, before he turned and led a sneak attack into a group of Eugene-fans who retaliated with a bombardment of diced vegetables. Helga had somehow ended up back to back with Arnold in the middle of a crowd, each of them holding an armful of pudding cups that they sent flying into people's faces. Arnold had said, "I don't think—watch out, left shoulder—you should have started this, Helga."

"I don't really see you trying to stop it, football—big guy, five o'clock...Nice shot."

"Thanks. But whatever's bugging you, it's not fair to take it out on everyone else."

"I've been working my tail off for you, nincompoop, and I'm exhausted. That's what's bugging me."

"Oh, come on, Helga. You've been crazy all morning, and it's not for me. What's bugging you?"

Then she'd snapped (again) and smashed a pudding cup on his head. "Maybe _you're_ bugging me!" Which was true, but not in the way he'd probably thought. He'd slowly wiped pudding out of his eyes, and she'd seen he was aggravated. He didn't have time to retaliate with his own pudding, however, because just then Curly wheeled by on top of a dirty dish cart, tossing food at them and shouting, "Die! Die! Die!" and about ten seconds after that the principal had stormed in and everything had come to a cold stop.

The principal had sent all the students to class, forbidding them to wash, and then kidnapped all the presidential candidates and hid them away in her office.

"And now he's in there!" Helga said up to the window. "Probably getting kicked out of the election, or suspended, or expelled...grr, and of course it's _my_ fault. I haven't even been at school here a month and already I've ruined his life! I'm the worst polite acquaintance ever."

She honestly felt guilty, even a little bit for the other candidates. All of the crazy things that had been going on hadn't been their fault, it had been their campaign managers, and, well, her. She had tried to tell the principal that when she was taking Arnold away, but the principal just said, "I vant to speak vis candidates only," in her scary Russian accent.

Helga really didn't know why she was standing anxiously beneath this window since it accomplished nothing, but, nonetheless, there she was. She was just eyeing the distance to the windowsill, wondering if she could run and jump and catch it, when someone tapped her on the shoulder and she practically jumped out of her skin.

She turned to look up at a tall, blond boy with glasses. He was holding a garbage bag in one hand and she assumed he was here to toss it in a dumpster. And he looked eerily familiar.

"Brainy?"

He sniffed and smiled and she contemplated how weird it was that every time she found herself hiding out by a garbage can, he just happened to show up. Things seemed not to have changed in seven years. She wondered why she hadn't seen him around before, but maybe she just didn't spend enough time by garbage cans. He was here now, though, so might as well take advantage.

"Brainy, do something for me, will you..."

* * *

The principal's office was cold enough Arnold could see his breath. He sat on a hard, upright chair, pudding in his hair, next to an equally messy Eugene and Lila. Around the room stood nine other students of various ages, whom he recognized as the presidential candidates for the other grades. Some were covered in food, but all were glaring down at the Sophomores.

The principal, a five-foot-one woman who looked as though death had come for her and she had bullied it into leaving her alive, sat behind her large impersonal desk, staring them down as they gave their accounts of what had happened during lunch. Her blood red fingernails tapped against the desktop ominously, making Eugene, who was currently speaking, sweat. Arnold briefly wondered if it _was_ blood. He thought that maybe the principal kept a kid locked up in her desk, and whenever she wanted to re-do her nailpolish, she could just reach in and cut him open. Maybe she kept him around for snacks, too. She was probably a demon of the night.

Arnold's imagination, always ready to run away, launched into a dimly-lit scenario where he was a brooding vampire, roaming the grassy hills of a graveyard, and making friends with a stake-wielding blond cheerleader, who looked suspiciously like Helga.

Then he remembered he was mad at Helga, so he locked her in a crypt so she could think about what she had done.

It wasn't the first time he had been in a principal's office, (the last time being a year ago when he and Gerald broke into the school in order to steal back Sam the janitor's old bowling trophy the school wouldn't let him have) and it probably wouldn't be the final time in his educational career, either. That's not why he was mad. He was mad that, for her, he'd cooperatively put on a stupid pink shirt with his face on it that got him laughed at all day; that she had used more than one dirty trick while campaigning for him so now _he_ was getting blamed; that she had started a food fight for no reason that got other people, and not her, in trouble; and that she was using his campaign as an excuse for it all when she really had ulterior motives. He knew the reason she was doing all this wasn't because she liked him or thought he was great, and he didn't know if that knowledge ticked him off more, or if the fact that she was claiming that that _was_ the reason did. Either way, here he was, being interrogated by a woman who might, at any moment, spread bat wings and try to eat his soul, while Helga was safely in class.

He was just imagining venting his anger by fighting zombies in a rundown warehouse, alongside Gerald, his werewolf friend, when something in the real world caught his eye. He glanced toward a window at his right.

Helga.

Huh.

He blinked and looked again. There was nothing. Must have been a trick of the light. Besides, that window had to be ten feet above the ground, there was no way she'd be there. But just when he was chalking it all up to his overactive imagination, Helga peeked over the windowsill.

She glanced around the room, ducking again when the boy standing closest to the window shifted. She came back a few seconds later and saw Arnold staring back at her. She waved ever so slightly, and then looked panicky when she wobbled unsteadily. She looked down at the ground and said something angrily that made Arnold wonder what on earth she was standing on. And what was she doing there at all?

"Are you quite finished vis your lolly-dreaming?"

Arnold turned to find the principal and everyone else looking at him. "Huh?"

The principal made a sour face, and for a second Arnold thought she might actually grow fangs, but then she turn to survey all three of the sophomores in front of her. "Sis is not the vay for leaders to behave. You have made it unfair to all the other candidates running," She gestured to the students standing around the edges, "Vis all ov your fancy cars and pictures and flashy shirts. And the fighting?" She tsked and shook her head. "And you destroyed one ov our vaxing machines. That costs a lot ov money. So. I have assessed the damage, and am sentencing you all to morning detention. I vant you here at six o'clock AM, every morning, until jolly old St. Nicholas comes by and gives you all socks full ov coal. I vill also be calling your parents to help vis the cost."

Lila and Eugene shared guilty, worried looks. It was probably the first time either of them had been in detention. Arnold sighed and looked at the window. An involuntary snort of laughter escaped him when he saw Helga's nose pressed up against the glass while she looked at the principal, probably trying in vain to hear what was happening.

The principal went on, standing and coming around the desk, "Since sis is most ov your first offenses, you may continue running for student government, but if I find you are responsible for anything more than putting a smile on someone's face, I vill track you down and drag you to your own personal Hell. Understood?"

Eugene nodded vigorously and Lila said, "Yes, ma'am."

Arnold was distracted by Helga, who had been startled by a sudden movement of the boy next to the window's, and who seemed to have lost her balance. She was bobbing up and down and suddenly her arms pinwheeled furiously. He heard a distant, "Eeek!", and then his breath hitched for a second when she literally dropped out of sight.

"Young man."

"Hmm?" He looked up and saw the principal glaring maliciously down at him.

"Vat is your name?" She hissed.

A chill crept up his spine, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Eugene swallow. "Uh, just Arnold."

"Vell, _just_ Arnold," She leaned toward him, and he knew, then, that his mortal soul was truly in peril. "I vill be keeping a very close eye on you..." She straightened and walked toward the door. "Now all ov you go avay. You are dripping food on my carpet." She yanked open the door, only to find a janitor on the other side, holding tight to Sid's collar. The janitor tossed Sid inside.

"Caught this one messing around in the closet. Banged a hole in my door with a hammer and a mop handle."

"I told you, I was locked in!" Sid countered, but the janitor just grunted and left.

Arnold followed the others out of the office, glancing once at the empty window. He watched as the door swung closed, and Sid looked back at him, as white as the ghost he supposedly was. Arnold hoped the principal wouldn't stick Sid in her drawer to save for a midnight snack.

Most of the students dispersed, and Arnold found himself in a small circle with Lila and Eugene, both whom were looking quite distraught.

Feeling partly responsible for Helga's actions, Arnold said, "I'm sorry about all this, you guys."

"Oh, Arnold, it's not your fault." Lila shook her head. "R.J. took things too far."

Eugene fiddled with the crutches he was leaning on. "I know most of it was Curly's fault. I'm sorry."

Arnold felt a little less mad at Helga to know she wasn't the only one going overboard. "How did you guys end up working with them, again?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure," Lila said. "I didn't know R.J. very well, but he asked if I would like the help, and he's very smart."

Eugene replied, "I'm afraid I had the opposite problem—I knew Curly too well. I didn't dare say no. But Arnold, you're working with Helga, aren't you?"

"Kind of. Technically Sid's my manager, but Helga's been doing a lot of work."

"Great! You're friends now, so guess all that work paid off, eh?" Eugene tried winking, but somehow it threw him off balance and both Arnold and Lila lunged forward to catch him. "I'm ok!"

Lila said as they straightened him, "I'm going to have a talk with R.J. I don't think this behavior can go on any longer. Perhaps we can talk Curly into calming down as well, what do you think, Eugene?"

"I think we should try."

Arnold nodded. "I'll talk to Sid and Helga, too."

Lila put an arm around Eugene's shoulder when he wobbled. "I'll help you back to class, Eugene."

"Ok, thanks." Eugene hobbled alongside her. "See you tomorrow for the interviews, Arnold."

"Goodbye, Arnold." Lila added, and the two headed down the hall.

Arnold watched them go, thinking how nice they were. He felt bad they had gotten all mixed up in this weird battle as well, since neither of them were really the aggressive or competitive type. The three of them just seemed to be being dragged along. He'd have to put a stop to that, though.

He headed down the opposite hall, towards the school entrance. As he thought, he ran into Helga just around the corner. "Hey."

She looked surprised to see him. "Oh, hey. So the Trunchbull let you out, huh?"

"Yeah." He looked at her with a wince. She looked even worse than she had that morning, with food staining her Team Arnold shirt and her eyes looking tired after her caffeine-crash. And now her elbows were covered in scrapes and blood and there was a tear in one pant leg. "Are you ok? Shouldn't you get some band-aids?"

"Nah, I'm fine. What's the verdict?" She asked. "You on death row? We don't have to set up Madam Guillotine or anything this afternoon?"

"No, nothing like that. Just detention. She even said I can still run for president."

She rubbed the back of her head, where she had probably hit it, and looked relieved. "Well, that's good, I guess. Could have been worse, right?"

He blinked then smiled slightly. "Were you worried? Is that why you were spying from the window?"

"What, tch, no! I was not worried. I just wanted to see if there was any bloodshed happening. I was disappointed, to say the least." She put her nose in the air.

There she went, being all aloof. But he knew better. He turned and led the way down the hall, stopping in the front office for some band-aids despite Helga's protests.

"I don't need 'em." Helga said while he peeled some open.

"Just hold still."

She grumbled unintelligibly to herself while he stuck brown bandages on her arms. "How were you up there anyway?" He asked.

"I was standing on Brainy."

"You were what?"

"Standing on Brainy."

He decided not to ask more. He tossed the excess papers in a garbage can and started down the hall back to fourth period. "Helga, from now on no more of this propaganda-with-a-vengeance stuff."

"No more? How will you win then? You can't compete against Curly and R.J. if you don't—"

"I don't care, I'm not doing it that way. I don't want to win by all this junk." He pulled at the hem of his shirt.

"Hey, that 'junk' cost me a crap load, I'll have you know."

"I'm sure it did, and I'm grateful for the help, Helga. But I don't think this is the right way to win, and I don't think this is the way to help you fix whatever's bugging you."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it. Not that again."

"Deny it all you want, I know there's something."

"There's nothing."

"Yes there is."

"No there isn't."

"There is."

"There isn't."

"Is."

"Isn't."

"Fine, don't tell me. I guess it's not my business."

"No, it's not."

"But running for president _is_ my business, so if you're going to help, we're doing it my way."

"_Your _way?"

He said firmly, "Yes, _my_ way. _Your _way started a food fight and sent me and two other people to the principal's office and got us morning detention for two months."

He expected a defensive retort, but she threw up her hands, exasperated. "I know, I know! It was entirely my fault, I know that none of you should have been there." She glared at the floor as they walked, embarrassed, and said quickly, "I'm sorry."

He looked at her with mild surprise. Well. He knew she felt sorry, since she had climbed and then subsequently fallen almost an entire story just to check on him, but here she'd come out and said, actually vocalized, an apology. He knew it wasn't easy for Helga to admit she was wrong—he remembered a time when she would have died rather than say she was sorry. And he didn't even have to goad it out of her, like he used to. She'd done it all by herself.

She was mumbling, avoiding his gaze. "I should probably...go...tell the principal...or somethin'..."

He was getting that feeling again, the one that he got more and more frequently when he was around her. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't _worry_ about it? Aren't you ticked you're doing time for me?"

"Of course." But he was feeling unusually generous. She was bleeding for him, after all. Literally. "So just think of it this way: you owe me."

"I owe you?"

"Yep. You owe me _big_ time." He smirked at her, and she looked a little uneasy.

"I dunno if that's better. I think I'll just take the detention."

"Too late."

He probably would have forgiven her anyway, but it made his day to hear her apologize to him. Mentally, he returned to the dark graveyard and let her out of the crypt. The cheerleader version of her told him if he did it again she'd throw holy water in his face, but then they decided to get some milkshakes.

The real life Helga was narrowing her eyes at him. "What are you grinning at?"

"Nothin'. I'm in the mood for milkshakes. How about you?"

"Milkshakes?"

"Big Gino has foods class right now, and he's always willing to sell under-the-table to the highest bidder."

She scoffed. "You seriously have some screws loose. It's, like, forty degrees outside, jelly brain. Hot chocolate is obviously the better option. You're paying."

"Whatever you say, Helga."

* * *

A/N: Woot! Also, I demand reviews. And favorites. And love. Someone give me some love! ...Why is my life so lame?


	6. No Escape

A/N: Thanks for all the love! Ok, prepare yourselves, this is going to be long...

Because, because, because, because, becaaauuse! Because of the wonderful things Craig Bartlett does!

Chapter 6: No Escape

The Little Theater was a room behind the main stage in the auditorium that the journalism club had confiscated as their personal studio. There was a circular platform that rose a foot above the ground in the center of the room, and an assortment of light stands and cameras had been set up at its front. Two chairs occupied the center of the platform, and Peapod kid sat in one, flipping through his notes while an assistant combed his hair.

The room was dark except for the stage lights, and camera and light assistants rushed back and forth while a girl with a head set hollered around the room, "We're on in five! Josiah, we're starting with you, so be ready to enter stage left!"

The presidential candidates lined the walls of the room dressed in their Sunday finest, some practicing their answers to questions, and others getting pep talks from their campaign managers. Arnold was sitting on a bench in a corner, pulling at his green sweater vest and tie. Helga leaned against the wall nearby, while Sid paced in front of them.

"Just calm down, Arnold, you just need to be calm, ok?" Sid said, tearing their questionnaire into little pieces.

"I am calm." Arnold said.

"Good, good...you remember all of the questions? And your answers?"

"Yes."

The girl with the head set situated Josiah the Freshman in his seat opposite Peapod kid and said, "Quiet on set! We're live in 3, 2..." She pointed at the camera. Peapod began his live morning show (every Wednesday and Friday, which only the government classes and about a dozen homemaker moms watched) and introduced the very nervous looking Freshman in front of him.

"They're starting! Shh!" Sid shushed his team in a loud whisper before turning to watch with a serious cross of the arms. Arnold and Helga shared a weary look.

Peapod kid was a dry humored, straight faced host, so the terrified Freshman class went by quickly and uneventfully, and soon Lila was sauntering across the stage in a sparkly dress and fancy high heels. Lila giggled and flirted and was basically her sincerely sweet self and half the guys in the room blushed while she tactfully answered each question. Somehow or other the two on stage got to talking about Lila's many talents and to everyone's surprise Peapod kid asked to hear a song.

"They're going off script!" Sid said indignantly. "Can they do that? Can they go off script?"

But Lila had already stood and was beginning a hauntingly sad song from _Les Miserables_ in her clear, strong voice. At the end a few light assistants cried, the candidates for the older grades were sniffling, and Peapod kid wiped a tear from under his mirrored aviators and said, "Oh, my, that was terribly, terribly wonderful."

Lila said modestly, "Oh, my, no, I simply do what I can. I believe that every talent a person has is meant for the betterment of the world—I only perform if it can bring warmth to the heart of someone who needs it."

Peapod kid nodded, "Indeed, Ms. Sawyer. I have no doubt you are the single most gracious woman this side of the highway. This school would be blessed to have you on the student council."

In a far corner Curly flipped a table. Sid pulled his hat off his head and threw it on the ground in despair. R.J. was on the other side of the room, and he waved at Helga haughtily. Helga said dryly, "Welp, we're doomed."

Arnold was tapping his fingers against his knee in serious thought. "Not yet, we're not..."

Helga snorted. "Are you kidding, she had them eating out of the palm of her hand. They were literally weeping. I thought someone was going to run up there and kiss her feet. Face it, you're chopped liver."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. We just need to think of how to get their attention..."

"Well, don't ask me, you don't like _my_ way of doing things. What are you going to do, Mr. 'Do It Your Way'? Get all preachy about teamwork and the spirit of democracy again? Somehow I don't think that'll cut it this time, football head."

He ignored her uppity comments. "We need a way to get Peapod kid on our side. If we have him, then we have the press..." He snapped his fingers and stood up. "I got it! Keep an eye on Sid, I gotta call Gerald." He headed toward the exit.

"Gerald? What's Gerald gonna do? Wait, Arnold!" But Arnold was out the door. She looked at Sid who was sitting on the ground, crying just a little. "Sheesh, get a hold of yourself."

On stage Eugene had taken Lila's place, and looked nervous. Curly was off stage, whispering wildly at Eugene and the girl with a head set was trying to get him to shut up. Eugene did all right answering the questions, falling into his on-stage persona that made him a good actor. He started sweating, however, when Peapod kid brought up Eugene's talents. Helga watched, not sure if she should laugh or feel sorry for the redhead while he tried a spontaneous tap dance number, one leg in a boot-cast, Curly yelling at him, "Yes! Right, left, right! Do a spin! _Spin_! Mwahaha!" The girl in the head set ordered a couple assistants to take Curly out, and they dragged him away kicking and biting. Just then Eugene tripped over a camera cord and fell off the platform, ending his sad dance. A couple girls around the room gasped and he said, "I'm ok!"

Peapod kid, continuously straight faced, said, "What a terribly, terribly...interesting performance. And that was Eugene Horrowitz, candidate for Sophomore class president. Moving on, we have Arnold," He looked at his cue-card, "Hmm, I can't read the last name. Who's handwriting is this?"

Helga was panicking since Arnold had never come back through the door, but there was no need, since the blond was already walking on stage. He shook Peapod kid's hand and was sitting down while Helga and Sid were still trying to figure out how he'd gotten there.

The questions were those from their questionnaire, "What'll you do as president? How do you feel about the new school policies? Where do you stand concerning the new curfew? Do you have any plans to help better the lunch menu? Etc." Arnold answered all just as he was supposed to, and Peapod kid steepled his fingers and nodded. Then, going off script as he had before, Peapod kid asked Arnold about himself, what he liked to do, and if he felt he had any special talents.

"I don't know about 'special'," Arnold said while Helga and Sid held their breaths, wondering what he was going to do, "I think anyone can do anything if they set their mind to it. That's all I've ever done."

"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm...And is there anything specific you'd like to share with us today?"

"Um," Arnold shot a look toward the back of the room, and continued, speaking slowly, "Well, I did think of a few things I can do, like karate, or the tango, or playing the harmonica, or doing a scene from a play..."

Off stage Sid said desperately, "What's he doing?"

Helga replied, "Looks like he's stalling. Criminy, he doesn't have anything. We're done for."

Arnold continued, "...or the waltz, or sing a song, or synchronized swimming, or disco, or speak German, or draw a picture, or—"

Peapod kid cut him off, "I may remind you we are on live television."

"And I decided on one thing specifically." Arnold stood from his seat and looked down at his host, "But I can't do it without your help."

"My help?" Peapod kid raised his eyebrows, and just then, the blue backdrop behind the platform fell forward with a loud CRASH. Strobe lights flickered wildly on a scene no one was expecting.

A chuckle emanated forward, "Mwahahaha..." Gerald stood with a bass guitar slung around his neck, dark sunglasses on his eyes. He struck a power cord. "Good morning, Hillwood!" He called out. Behind him, Harold sat behind a drum set, twirling a drumstick in one hand, his foot beating the pedal for the bass drum. A keyboard sat vacant to the right, and an electric guitar stood on a stand to the left, waiting.

"Well, get over here, dudes!" Harold yelled. "Let's make some music!"

"What do you say, Peapod kid?" Arnold asked. "How about a reunion performance, just for today?"

Peapod kid looked at the band blankly and everyone around the room was silent. After a moment, he stood and moved forward to take up the lone guitar, playing a shockingly fast and wailing rift, his fingers flying across the strings. He smirked. "Excellent."

"All right, my man, let's do this thing!" Gerald moved forward as Arnold took his place behind the keyboard. "Hillwood," Gerald said into the standing microphone in front of him, "For today and today only, Gerald and the Kings reunite! How many of you remember that popular old ditty, 'Sunset Arms'?"

Harold smacked his drumsticks together, "One! Two! Three! Four!"

Music filled the Little Theater, the beat of the bass pounding in the soles of the onlookers' feet. The girl in the head set ordered the camera men forward for better angles, and soon a small crowd of the assistants, candidates, and their managers were standing around Gerald and the Kings, bobbing their heads. Gerald's low raspy voice carried across the room, and Arnold sang back up. The song had an upbeat, warm feeling and they had lyrics like "holding you is like holding the sun (Leave me blind and blistered!)" and "ghosts haunt this house when you're not home (Come on ho-o-o-ome!)" and more than one audience member was singing along.

Helga didn't sing along, but she did know all the words. Gerald and the Kings had been brought together early in the ninth grade, when over the summer Gerald started learning the bass guitar in order to "be chill". Arnold already knew the piano, and Harold had joined shortly after (since his parents had him learning the drums as an outlet for his bratty teenage attitude). Peapod kid had been a surprise addition—originally it had been Eugene, but the redhead broke his arm before their first gig at Slausen's Ice Cream. Peapod kid had stepped forward and saved Gerald and the Kings when he suddenly revealed his killer guitar skills. The band rose to immediate fame, becoming the most popular band in the neighborhood for young teens for a glorious three weeks. Then the band had a falling out, Eugene started his own rival band, and everyone decided to go their own ways. Only a handful of tapes remained, with recordings of the band's few original songs, and one of these was in the hands of a certain Phoebe Heyerdahl. Helga had, nonchalantly, borrowed the tape for a weekend, and listened to it over and over. Her favorite song had been "Lost in San Lorenzo", that had a definite bluesy quality to it, which she imagined to be Arnold's influence. She knew that if she'd had the chance to see them live, she would have been just as crazy as their other preteen fans.

She listened to the familiar song and tried not to pick out Arnold's voice too much when he took over singing lead. She vaguely wondered if the pounding in her chest was her heart or the bass. It was probably the bass. Next to her, Sid stood on top of the bench, wiggling his rear-end and pointing toward Arnold, "Oh, yeah! You're the man! You're getting elected for sure!"

"Sunset Arms" reached its climax when Peapod kid took over with a ripping solo, and ended with a final three crashing notes that the four boys banged their head in unison to. The last cord hung in the air and the small crowd cheered. The band bowed and then began to break up, Peapod kid wandering back over to his small stage. He dabbed at his damp forehead and sat in his chair and called on stage Annie Kay, a Junior class candidate who looked horrified that she had to follow up Gerald and the Kings. (The rest of the interviews went rather slowly and pathetically, with Annie standing on her head for three minutes as her talent, another Junior boy burping the ABC's backwards, and a Senior guessing the color of M&M's as he ate them blindfolded. Even so, it was still the most widely watched morning of Peapod's show in its entire history, and clips of Gerald and the Kings were immediately put online for teenagers of Hillwood to admire everywhere.)

Behind the platform and poor Annie on her head, the small crowd hovered around the band as they took down the drums and unplugged the amps. Sid broke through the fans as the band gathered at the back door and Helga followed.

Sid was so excited he took Arnold by the front of the shirt and shook him."Boy howdy, you guys were _awesome_! That was so sweet! At first we thought you weren't going to show up, and then, kabow! The back wall came down!" He let go and high fived Harold three times before the bigger boy put him in a headlock and rubbed his head affectionately.

"Thanks, Sid," Arnold said. He turned to Gerald. "For a minute I thought you guys wouldn't make it."

"For a minute, so did I," Gerald bumped Arnold's fist and they wiggled their thumbs. "But, come on, who's the coolest?"

"You are, man."

"You know that's right." Gerald turned to the door, his guitar on his back and the mic in his hand, and spotted Helga. "Hey, Helga, baby, how'd you like the show?" He put his sunglasses back on dramatically, fully aware of how cool he was trying to look, "You fallin' in love with me yet?"

"Ew," Helga said. "I think I just vomited a little."

Gerald just chuckled and headed out the door. Harold carried the amps out behind him and said, "Ha ha! Pataki in love! Oh, that's good..."

Helga turned to Arnold as he stepped by, his keyboard under one arm. "Admit it, Helga. You like my way." He winked at her then followed his band out the door.

That time Helga knew it wasn't the bass beating in her chest.

* * *

Arnold sat on the cold concrete at twilight, watching the shadows grow in the alley around him. Gerald stood a couple feet away, watching the front door of a purple house across the street.

Gerald checked his watch for the third time in the last sixty seconds. "Six fifty three...It's kind of windy. What if the candles blew out?"

"They're in tall glasses, I'm sure they're fine." Arnold replied coolly.

"Yeah...Uh-oh, that looks like a pigeon up there, what if it comes down and eats the pumpkins?"

"The last I checked, pigeons don't really eat pumpkins. Calm down, Gerald, it's all going to be fine."

"Yeah, ok, ok."

Twenty minutes before hiding in the alley, Gerald and Arnold had knocked on Phoebe Heyerdahl's door. She wasn't home, she was tutoring a nearby neighbor kid like she did every Wednesday night. They had actually been planning on this, so Gerald kindly asked Mrs. Heyerdahl if he could borrow their front stoop for a bit. Then they'd laid out little candles and pumpkins with smiling jack-o-lantern faces carved in them, and topped it off with an assortment of orange and red roses piled here and there. The final piece of the arrangement was an envelope with "Phoebe" scrawled on the front in Gerald's best handwriting. Now all that was left to do was wait for her to come home.

The alley was filled with silence as they waited. Arnold could hear the sounds of a TV show distorted by the window above him, and someone a floor or two up was making a dinner that smelt delicious. He was hungry and cold, but he'd promised Gerald he'd be here for moral support. He rolled his eyes when he saw his friend checking his watch again. "Calm down, it's not even seven yet. Her mom said she'd be home anywhere between seven and seven-thirty."

"I know. What if she doesn't like it?" Gerald asked.

"Why wouldn't she like it? Chill, Gerald. Why are you so worked up, anyway? You've been on dates with Phoebe before."

"Yeah, in elementary school."

"What about the Valentine's dance in seventh grade?"

"That doesn't count. I liked Maggie Ray then, and she was hanging out with that artsy guy, Vonnie, or whatever. We just went as friends."

Arnold shook his head. "Well, she likes you now, so there's nothing to worry about."

"I know she likes me, but I can't help it! I'm just nervous. This isn't like all those other times I asked girls out—this is _Phoebe_. She's just so smart and funny and cute...I've liked her since, what? Forever? Sure, I had crushes on other girls, but, c'mon. We all knew it was gonna be me and Phoebe."

"Yeah, we did." Gerald and Phoebe had liked each other for as long as Arnold could remember. Once in a while one or the other would wander off and like someone else, but eventually they just kept coming back round to each other. It kind of annoyed Arnold, actually, whenever Gerald started liking some new girl. He supported his bro, sure, but the whole time he just kept wondering why in the heck Gerald didn't _see_ Phoebe. She was so obviously right in front of him and right _for_ him. But Gerald had to discover it for himself—which he did, like a slap to the face, when she started dating R.J. White.

Ugh, R.J. White. Arnold tried not to dislike anyone, but R.J. did push some serious buttons. On purpose. The guy came off as very smooth, polite, and intelligent, but, upon further acquaintance, he was all around pretty slimy. Phoebe had been swayed by his good looks and his brains, but it hadn't taken her long to uncover the real R.J., and Gerald had literally jumped with joy the day they broke up.

"Anyway," Gerald nudged Arnold with his foot, "I think there's a girl for you, too, but you'd better decide fast."

"I know, but I'm still trying to work it out. We used to have such a chaotic relationship. Looking back, though, even with all that, she always seemed to be there just when I needed her. But am I mistaking that for something more than it was?"

"...Man, what the _heck_ are you talking about?"

Arnold glanced at Gerald, who gave him a suspicious look. "Uh...What were you talkin' about?"

"I was talking about you getting a girl for the dance." Gerald narrowed his eyes. "What's all this mumbo about 'needing her'? What girl are _you_ talking about?"

"Ahh, oh, well...Phoebe."

"Phoebe?" He looked like he might punch him.

"No, _there's _Phoebe." Arnold pointed.

Gerald whipped around and pressed himself against the alley wall while Arnold crouched forward. Phoebe was walking along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, books tucked under her arm. She paused when she reached her front stoop, looked at it, then glanced around. She bent to get a better look, talking a long whiff of a rose, before picking up the note with her name.

"You're up, Gerald." Arnold said. Gerald didn't move so Arnold had to shove him from the alley. Gerald crossed the street, unnoticed by Phoebe until he was behind her. She turned, holding the letter, and Arnold watched the two shuffle their feet, embarrassed. They exchanged a few words Arnold couldn't hear, then all at once Phoebe flung her arms around Gerald's neck with an excited "YES!" that echoed down the street.

Arnold smiled and watched his friends laugh and hug and then he left the alley and wandered down the street, leaving the two of them surrounded by candles in the quickly darkening night. He passed beneath street light after street light on the beaten path toward home.

He paused in front of a familiar house and looked up at it. It was a tall, blue town home, and a couple lights were on, giving the building a warm, lively glow. A family with three small kids lived there now, the Barreda family, but it had once been home to the Patakis. Arnold watched his visible breath curl into the air as he stood just outside the front stoop. He still had Gerald and Phoebe on the brain, and standing there now he wondered what would have happened if Helga had stayed living there. Would they have continued as they had as children, continually picking at each other? Or, maybe, just maybe, would they have turned out like Gerald and Phoebe? He didn't know. But, perhaps it wasn't too late to find out.

A side window slid open and a small boy with brown skin and dark hair poked his head out. "_Hola_, Arnald!"

"_Hola_, Sammy."

"Have you come for dinner?"

"No, I'm just walking by."

Sammy's father came up behind him and Sammy said, "Papa, Arnald has come for dinner!"

Mr. Barreda poked his head out. "Has he? Ah, _hola_, Arnald. I'm glad you are here, I have been meaning to thank you for helping Sammy with his _Ingles_; he does much better in school now."

"No problem, Mr. Barreda. Anytime."

"Won't you come in, _porfavor_?"

"All right, just for a bit. My grandparents are expecting me home, soon."

"_Si_, _si_, of course." Mr. Barreda and Sammy left the window and Arnold climbed the steps. Sammy ripped open the door, his father and his little sister Raquel coming up behind him.

"_Buenos noches_, Arnald, have you come to see me, _mi amor_?" Raquel clasped her arms behind her and twisted side to side in her pink tutu.

"Of course," Arnold patted the top of her head.

"Maria!" Mr. Barreda called out, heading further into the house, "Set another place at the table, Arnald has come!"

"Arnald _ha venido_?" Came Maria's call back. "It's about time!"

Sammy and Raquel led the way into the house, fighting over who got to sit next to their guest at the table, and Arnold stepped inside. He shut the door behind him, pretending just for a minute that it was the Pataki's who had invited him inside for dinner.

* * *

Rhonda was the type of girl who knew exactly what she wanted and when she wanted it, and if you didn't have it, she was not a happy camper. When Rhonda was not a happy camper, no one was.

Helga sat in a desk in some class on Thursday afternoon, listening indifferently while Rhonda ranted up at the front. She was saying something like, "I cannot _believe_ the complete lack of creativity in this room! Paper mache Jack-o-lanterns? You _must_ be joking, and blah, blah, blah..." Ashlee, Rhonda's co-chair for the dance, leaned against the teacher's desk, filing her nails and nodding, and a dozen students sat in desks or on them around the room, looking bored. Nadine was one of them, gluing black bats to a poster, and so was a short redhead with freckles, whom Helga recognized as Curly's girlfriend that she had met her first day there. Her name was Hettie, and Helga had found herself staring at her more than once, wondering how in the heck she was dating the nut case. Next to Helga, Moze yawned and doodled basketball hoops and NBA jerseys in the margins of his notebook.

Helga's eyes unconsciously wandered toward an empty seat two rows over from her, where Arnold usually sat. Today he was in the teacher's lounge, eating some fancy-pants French food with the other presidential candidates, while she sat in here, being lectured on accurate usage of the gym's architectural space and what colors best complimented the buffet table.

Helga toed her backpack that leaned against her desk. The scarf Arnold had let her borrow on Monday was in it—she had meant to give it back to him, but had yet to, and now it just seemed awkward. _Why should it be awkward?_ She thought. _It's his scarf. Just give him the stupid thing and be done with it. _Yet every time she went to do it, her nerve totally died. It was rather annoying, actually.

"Just one more day," She said quietly to herself, rubbing her temples. "One more day, and then he'll be gone." The next morning was Friday: election day. She was completely confident that he would be elected—his prospects had been pretty good before, and since Gerald and the Kings' surprise performance, everyone was buzzing with news of Arnold. On her desk Helga had the school paper, and a snapshot of Gerald and the Kings was on the front. The Sophomore presidential interviews were posted on page 3a, with some clever quips and quotes from all three candidates, but what caught most everyone's attention was the cover story. Helga clicked her pen and drew a careful mustache on Arnold's black and white picture. Yep. There was no doubt that he'd be president, and then she'd hardly see him anymore. _This is a good thing,_ she reminded herself. Lately she felt him crawling under her skin, and that was problematic. _Soon I'll be safe_. Soon he'd be president and he'd be far too busy to spend time with a lowly acquaintance and she wouldn't have to worry about confused feelings towards him anymore because she'd probably never see him. Ever. She sighed.

"You ok?"

She glanced over at Moze. "Peachy."

"You sure? You look like someone died."

She shrugged. "Yeah, I think I did. All this decoration crap is making my brain melt. Seriously, who cares if the table cloths are pumpkin orange or squash orange."

He chuckled. "I'm glad I'm not in charge of decorations. I just have to help mold meatballs into brains and buy candy corn."

"Lucky."

Up front Rhonda finished her lecture and said, "All right, people, next weeks the week before the dance, which means we have to go into overdrive. I want this dance to be big, bigger than prom—I want every single student there, so that means posters on every wall, got that? So you'll all be splitting into pairs in your groups and making posters. Next Friday is set-up day, which means every single one of you had better be in the west gym at exactly 4 o'clock. On the day in question, next Saturday, all of you had better be there early in order to help with the buffet tables, lights, and anything else we need all night."

Nadine raised her hand. "What if we have a date?" A couple other kids nodded, including Hettie, Curly's G.F.

"Well, if you have a date, you're off the hook. I, for example, also have a date, so Ashlee will be in charge, because she's probably not going to get one."

Ashlee glared at Rhonda.

"I'll go with you, Ashlee," a boy in the front row with head gear and a unicorn shirt said.

"Not on your life, Jason," Ashlee retorted.

"That's ok, we can just work together at the buffet." He wiggled his eyebrows and she scoffed.

Helga said, "What, so the rest of us are forced to work while everyone else gets to have fun? How the heck is that fair?"

"You're doing a good thing for other people," Rhonda said, "You get good fuzzy feelings. Now break up into your groups and get to work."

Helga pushed back her chair, grumbling. The groups separated, but before Helga could get to hers, Rhonda handed her a huge stack of papers. "Here take these down to the photo copy center. I asked for front and back but they only gave me front."

"I'll go with you." Moze said, taking half the stack.

"Well, how kind of you, Carlos," Rhonda cooed up at him and shooed them both away.

They walked down the hall in step, both complaining about how the committee had to work during the dance. They were already busting their butts trying to pull together "Rhonda's vision", why should they not even be able to enjoy their hard work?

"Well, you got it easy," Moze said. "You don't have to work, since you have that boyfriend."

"What? What boyfriend?"

"You know, that kid with the funny head you're always hanging out with."

She barked out a laugh. He thought Arnold was her boyfriend? "Oh, oh-ho, oh, no, he's _not_ my boyfriend. No."

"He's not?"

"Heck no."

"Oh, I just assumed. I always see you guys together and stuff. Well, hey, then, why don't we go together!"

"Go where?"

"To the dance. It'll be fun. We can go with Teri and Lenny, and your little albino friend. It'll be like an East Side High reunion. A last hoo-rah as East Siders."

"Yeah, ok. That could be fun. Better than spooning punch to a bunch of dorks all night." And watching Arnold dance with whatever obnoxiously cute girl he was going to go with, and Phoebe and Gerald, who were being disgustingly cute together since he'd asked her to be his girlfriend. It could be fun to hang out with her pals, just them, and not worry about all that pressure for "dates". Helga had never been on a date before, not a real one, but she figured dates were for cute, nice people who didn't push you down when they got nervous and you stood in their way. But the dance would be a good distraction from a certain football cranium, at the very least. "Yeah, let's all go. Who needs a date, anyway?"

"No, actually, I did mean as a date."

"What, with me?"

"Yeah, with you."

Then she tripped, and sent her stack of papers flying.

* * *

Big Bob looked down at his daughter, hands on his hips. Helga sat cross legged on the coffee table, eyes closed and hands palm up. This wasn't the first time he'd caught her doing some weird cult voodoo in his house, but that didn't mean he had to like it, especially not this early on a Friday morning.

"For crap's sake, Helga, what the heck are you doing?"

Without opening her eyes Helga replied, "It's called meditation, dad. It's supposed to help me clear my mind and release the spiritual toxins in my body."

"Well get off the table and release your toxins on the floor."

"No can do, pops. Dr. Loveless said to do it off the ground. It's symbolic for leaving the harsh world behind and moving on to higher realms."

He was now completely convinced she was nuts. "Fine, whatever, if you want to be high in other realms, do it on the couch. Just get off the table, you're scuffing the lacquer."

Her eyes opened and she rolled them. "Oh, please, lacquer is hardly more important than me finding my center without the aid of dopamine and the rush I get from obsessive compulsive behavior. I'm currently learning the inner art of peace and creating a mental shield so I can protect my feminine self from the unrealistic romances of the past."

"Oh, come on, that's all girl stuff. You don't need that junk."

"I _am_ a girl."

"Huh? Well, yeah...I know that."

She glared at him.

"But high or not you're gonna be late for the bus. Get off the table."

She sighed, rolling her eyes again, and got off. Miriam came in just as Helga was grabbing her backpack and pulled off her daughter's gray hat.

"Miriam, what are you doing?" Helga held still, suspicious, as her mother pulled her hair back.

"I just saw this in the bathroom. You should look nice for your thing today. Olga always dressed up to go on stage."

"I don't wanna look nice, and I'm not the one going on stage."

Miriam stepped away and Helga fingered the pink ribbon in her hair. It wasn't any pink ribbon—it was the same one she had worn her entire elementary career. Hmm. To pull it out or not to pull it out, that was the question.

"Move it, Pataki, you're going to be late for the bus, and there's no way in heck I'm drivin' you," Bob said, and Helga left the ribbon alone. Whatever. It was just a bow.

Miriam called as Helga opened the door, "Tell your little friend good luck on his thing!"

Helga shot over her shoulder, "He's not my friend, he's just my polite acquaintance!" and shut the front door without another goodbye.

Bob scratched his belly. "Sheesh, that kid's head is going all mushy. First she's quitting basketball, then she's making T-shirts and reading voodoo blogs...it just ain't right, I tell you."

"You know, I think she has a little boy she likes."

"What?" Bob threw his head back and laughed. "A boy! That's rich. Maybe when pigs fly." He stopped when he turned to his wife. "Miriam, not you too! Get off the coffee table!"

* * *

"I'm going to _kill_ that football head!" Helga said to herself. "Where in the heck is he?"

She stood backstage in the auditorium, among the belays and wires and curtains, by herself. Technically, she wasn't really supposed to be there, but Mrs. Joy, the student council teacher, had given up on trying to get her to leave. On stage, the Junior class candidates stood behind podiums, giving their little speeches, while the Junior class sat in the auditorium seats. The Seniors had come and gone already that morning, and in about thirty minutes it would be the Sophomores' turn. So where was Sid, team manager? Where was Arnold, the nominee in question? Helga was asking herself the very same things.

"Good morning, Helga," Lila paused as she passed, her pretty green dress swaying around her knees. R.J. was just behind her, and he looked down his nose at the blond in torn jeans.

"Yeah, it's a great morning. Peaches and cream and pea soup outside." Helga said grumpily.

"Where's Arnold?" Lila asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Oh, no, I hope he gets here on time."

"Yes, indeed," R.J. said, "It would be a...shame for him to miss it."

Helga narrowed her eyes at him and he smiled pleasantly and turned away. She wouldn't be the least surprised if he'd had something to do with the delay. She was pretty thoroughly convinced that he had paid off the journalism club to change the questionnaires, too. Luckily, they'd been able to keep ahead thus far.

"I'm sure he'll be here, Helga, don't worry," Lila patted her shoulder, "Wish him luck for me!"

"Sure, sure."

Lila wandered off, her stupid manager behind her. Helga glanced over at Eugene, who was sitting on a folding chair on the other side of the stage, twisting his crutch, while Curly stood in front of him, lecturing him on whatever he should or shouldn't say. She felt more threatened by Curly than R.J.—R.J. was more into bribes and manipulation. They could handle that. Curly, however, was a loose cannon. He could blow any second. She needed a way to distract him, keep him occupied so he didn't have time to do anything insane. The problem was she'd told Arnold she wouldn't do any dirty tricks...but maybe she could get someone else to do it for her?

She left her spot against the wall and wandered to a curtain, making sure no stage assistants were around. She stepped behind it. _Ok. This had better work. _"Oh, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways!" She put a hand to her heart and sighed. "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height thine hair can reach! I love thee to the end of every day as you quietly read, by sun and candle-light! I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life!" She glanced around expectantly, but no one was there. Grr. She wouldn't actually have to say _his_ name, would she? Fine. "And, if thou, beautiful blond, will permit, I shall but love thee better after death, my dearest Arn—" She froze. There was a very distinct, warm breath on the back of her neck. She spun around to face Brainy. "Ha! No way, that actually worked!" She'd summoned him here, actually called him forth from the shadows, or wherever it was he came from, with a stupid love poem! He was kind of like a genie. All her childhood she had hated his sudden appearances, but why on earth hadn't she used them to her advantage before?

Brainy just smiled down at her, confused, an extension cord and duct tape in his hand. Helga looked down at them. "What are those for?" She asked.

"Leslie wanted them over there," He responded in his deep voice, sniffing.

"Well, whoever Leslie is she's gonna have to wait." She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him around the curtain. "You see Curly over there?" Brainy nodded. "I want you to do me a favor—go over there, and, I dunno. Distract him. Use that cord or tape or something."

"Um, but I have to—"

"Do it later, dweeb, this is more important! Get over there and just do whatever to keep him from bugging us." She pushed Brainy forward, and then said as an after thought, "You know. Please." Brainy nodded and wandered over towards Eugene and Curly and Helga rubbed her hands together. "One down, one to go, heh heh. Poor sap, didn't even know I wasn't serious. He probably thought I actually wrote that poem for Arn—Arnold!" She had turned around only to find that he had popped up out of thin air. "_What_ are you doing? Don't sneak up on me! Criminy!"

"Sorry, Helga." He was breathing kind of heavy, and his hair and the shoulders of his jacket were damp.

"Where've you been?" She demanded as he shrugged off the jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. "I've been freaking out!"

"I know, sorry." He pulled at the sleeves of his white collared shirt and tried to smooth out his slacks. "I went to leave this morning, and there was a wall of cinder-blocks right outside my front and back doors, and boards on the windows."

"Seriously?"

He sat to re-tie a shoelace. "Seriously. We had to get out Ernie, you remember, that lives in the boarding house? We had to get his battering ram out and knock down the wall, but by then I'd missed the bus, so we had to take the Packard, but the Packard was being towed, so we had to talk the tow guy out of taking it, which took longer than I would have liked." He sighed and looked frustrated, running a hand through his hair. Cinder-block debris fell from his head and landed on his lap and he dusted it off angrily.

Helga brushed a patch of dust off his shoulder. "Do you think it was Curly or R.J.?"

"Not sure. Curly's crazy enough, but R.J..."

"Has the resources, yeah."

They both looked over at their rivals. R.J. turned away with a smile when they looked at him, and Curly blew a kiss at Arnold, before tripping over an extension cord that was stretched out behind him. "You totally have to take them down," Helga crossed her arms.

Arnold glowered at his enemies. "Uh-huh."

Mrs. Joy flounced by them with her clip board, and grinned, her braces flashing and contradicting her graying hair. "Arnold are you all ready?"

"Sure, Mrs. Joy."

"Oh, fabulous, fabulous! Ah, I'm just so excited!" She pumped a fist in the air, and they uncertainly did so, too. "Now, in just a moment the Junior's are going to leave the auditorium and the Sophomores will come in. Don't be nervous, you'll do just fine! Oh, and don't forget, in about two minutes, we'll have you just head through that door over there so you can have a picture with your stage manager." She looked around. "Where is Sid?"

Arnold looked at Helga and she shrugged. (Unbeknownst to them, Sid was, at that very moment, locked in a broom closet. He'd been shoved and then locked in, crying out, "Oh, man, not again!" and pounding on the door. Anyone who walked down that hallway that day had a very good reminder to take the current student government seriously, or they might end up murdered like the broom-closet-ghost.)

"Well, hopefully he's ok," Mrs. Joy said, not sounding the least bit concerned. "Besides, I'm sure you'd much rather take your picture with this lovely girl here." Her smile tightened. "Even if she's _not_ supposed to _be_ here." Helga ignored her. "Anyway, try to look handsome!" She pinched Arnold's cheek. "And take off that silly hat..." She reached toward Arnold's head.

He leaned away from her reach. "I'd rather not—"

"Whoa, whoa, lady," Helga pushed Mrs. Joy's hand away. "The hat stays on the kid's head." Arnold raised his eyebrows at her.

"Oh ho! Come now, none of these silly teen fashion statements. He can just take it off for a minute." Mrs. Joy reached again and Helga again stopped her.

"Lady, no. The hat goes nowhere."

"Yes, well, fine. Be that way." The teacher stuck her nose in the air and turned on her heel, bouncing away.

"Wow, she's a bucket of giggles," Helga turned to Arnold, who was adjusting the brim of his hat and smiling at her. "What?"

"Nothing."

They sat in silence, listening to the distant applause of the Junior class. Arnold pulled his speech out of a coat pocket and scanned it.

"So..." He said after a second.

"So?"

"So, I heard Moze asked you to the dance next week."

Helga stiffened. Arnold knew. Well of course Arnold knew, why shouldn't he know? It wasn't a secret or anything. But she was suddenly seized with an intense desire to know exactly what he was thinking. "He did," She replied nonchalantly, watching him closely.

His face didn't give anything away. He just looked back calmly, gaze half-lided as usual. "That's nice, isnt it?"

"Is it?"

"Isn't it?"

She frowned. Now he was just going in circles—why was he asking her in that weird way? "Yeah, I guess it's great."

He nodded, and looked down at his speech again.

_Just a nod? What the heck does _that _mean? You can't just nod, you overgrown pig-skin cranium! Tell me what you're thinking! _She pulled on her hair bow angrily and glared at him, but didn't say anything more.

A buzz from the auditorium indicated that the Junior class was leaving. The Sophomores would be up any minute. In the back, a metal door swung open and Lila and R.J. walked out. Mrs. Joy called over to Arnold, "It's your turn for pictures! Hurry, now!"

Arnold and Helga looked at the stage entrance, as if Sid would come through it any second. He didn't. They headed toward the back, crossing paths with Lila and her manager on the way.

"Hello, Arnold, I'm glad you made it." Lila said as they passed. "I'm ever so sure you'll do well."

He replied, "Thanks, Lila. Good luck."

She smiled and kept moving. R.J. said, "It's through the door and down the stairs. The room's wide open, you'd have to be quite the ignoramus to miss it."

Arnold glared at him, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Then he hopped over Helga's foot, which she had stuck out to trip him.

"I really don't like that guy," Arnold said as they went through the door. The stairs were to the right and they headed down them. "He's so..."

Helga offered, "Pompous? Pretentious? A total twit?"

"I was going to say annoying, but those work, too." They shared a grin.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and found themselves in a concrete hall, with eerily swinging lights and a musky smell. There was a dark red stain on one of the walls. "Sheesh," Helga said as they passed it. "If this isn't the perfect scene for a horror movie, I dunno what is."

Arnold looked at the red stain as well. "I know. We never were able to get the blood off the wall." He moved on.

She followed, "You put that there?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Sid and Stinky did a zombie apocalypse for their final film project last year. I helped direct."

"Of course you did." She rolled her eyes. "You're such a Jack-of-all-trades. Overachiever."

"What, like you're not? Ah, there's the open door."

"Hey, I am a woman of many faces. _You_ are just annoyingly—" She stopped just inside the door. "Perfect. What the hey-nonny?"

They stood in the open doorway, looking into the room beyond. The problem was, they couldn't see five feet past the light of the door—the room was completely dark. A few shapes of boxes could be seen stacked in the shadows, and one was open in the light, holding a few creepy looking masks. There was certainly no photographer in there.

"Great, don't tell me," Helga said. "We're ignoramuses."

"Maybe it's just further in there. This is a pretty big room." Arnold leaned inside, as if the photographer were hiding behind a box, ready to pop out at them.

"And maybe R.J.'s just an even more annoying putz than we previously thought."

Arnold was prevented from agreeing to this, however, when both he and she suddenly got a rather good shove from behind. They stumbled into the dark room, turning just in time for the door to slam shut, leaving them in complete darkness. Through the door they heard the unmistakable laughter of Curly, echoing as he walked away.

* * *

The auditorium filled with Sophomores gradually, each student taking a seat and calling out to friends or throwing paper airplanes. Backstage, assistants rushed back and forth and Mrs. Joy stood in the middle, shouting orders with a smile. In their separate corners, the presidential nominees who had yet to go on stage practiced their speeches nervously. No one heard the distant cries of two lost students that emanated from the basement.

"Hello! Can anyone hear us? Anyone!" Arnold called through the door and felt along the wall for a light switch, pausing every few seconds to listen for approaching footsteps. Helga stood next to him, yanking on the handle and rattling the door in its frame.

"Grah!" She let go and kicked the door. "I cannot believe those two idiots were working together! I'm so going to kill Brainy when I see him, he was _supposed_ to keep him distracted...Well, _now_ what?" She turned to him. At least, to where she thought he was. The only light came from the cracks under the door and the rest was just nondescript shapes in the black.

"Do you have your cell phone on you? Mine was in my jacket upstairs."

She sighed and felt at her pockets. Uht-oh. She didn't have her cell phone. She groaned. "I don't have it, I left it on the coffee table at home..."

Arnold stood facing the darkness. "Ok, well, I think there's another door down here somewhere. Maybe we could find it on the other side of the room."

"You want to walk_ into_ the dark? _Hello_, have you noticed that we can't even see the noses on our faces? We'll just get lost, or trip and break our legs and then no one will ever find us and our bones will rot down here forever!"

"We are not going to get lost and die. Someone will come get us eventually. But we just need a way out _now_, or we're going to miss the assembly, and we've both worked too hard to let that happen."

"Are you sure you don't want to pick up one of these boxes and try ramming the door? Seems quicker."

"That's a metal door hinged in concrete. I don't think that would really work. But this is the prop-storage room, and I know there's another door that the drama kids always use. And before the door closed, did you see how these boxes were kind of parted down the middle? It's like a path, or something. I bet if we follow it the door's on the other side."

"All right, all right..." And they started off in the dark.

It was pretty slow going. Arnold walked as quickly as he dared, one hand extended slightly, to make sure he didn't run into anything. Every once in a while he'd find a stack of boxes in front of him and he'd have to turn to the sides to see which way the path led, keeping an eye out for rectangular cracks of light that might indicate a door. It was also slow because every dozen steps or so he'd pause and call out to Helga to make sure she was still ok. She was never behind him—her answers in the dark always came from somewhere off to the side. Once he heard her bump into something and say, "Ow!" to which he responded, "Are you sure you don't want to just follow the path? Why are you walking through all of that stuff?"

"I just want to make sure we've explored thoroughly. The door could be hiding behind one of these stacks of junk and I just want to make sure we don't miss it." That was a total lie. What she really wanted was to keep as far away from Arnold as possible—polite acquaintances do not get stuck in dark rooms with old-flames and then remain in close proximity. That was a no-no. Yes, she was much safer wading through boxes and crawling through racks of costumes and smacking her nose on fake plywood walls. After one such encounter she growled, "Why the heck is all this junk down here anyway!" She turned from the fake wall, rubbing her nose, but with her first step away her foot caught on something and she fell right over whatever it was, crashing into a couple boxes behind it.

"Helga! Are you ok?" Arnold began feeling his way toward where he heard the crash.

"Ow..." She sat up, rubbing her shin, and looked toward the evil thing that had tripped her. She couldn't tell what it was, but whatever she had done to it, it was making a weird whirring noise and a little red light was blinking on the top of it. Arnold miraculously found his way in the dark, and after nearly stepping on her fingers, helped her up. "What is that smell?" She asked.

"I think it's coming from that," He gestured to the machine with the red light. "I think it's a smoke machine. Someone must have left it full of juice."

"Fantastic. Can we turn it off?"

He knelt beside it and felt around. "There's no cord...maybe there's an off switch..." He pushed the first button he found. The whirring grew louder, and he backed up, batting at the air and coughing.

"Nice, genius, you made it worse," Helga covered her nose with her sleeve. "Come on, we just have to get out of here." She tugged on his collar to pull him away. He took her hand from his shirt and held onto it.

"This way," He guided her over various obstacles and tried to tread carefully, aware that she was favoring her hurt leg. The progress was too slow, though, and the smoke machine was working too fast. They were breathing as shallow as was possible, but it was difficult with the overpowering, almost sweet smell of the smoke that was quickly filling the room.

"Forget, _cough!_, us breaking our legs," Helga said, "We'll just suffocate instead. At least it's a quicker death."

"Quit being so morbid."

"We can't all be as blindly optimistic as you, Mr. Funshine." She stopped and tugged on his hand, "Wait a sec, do you see that?"

He coughed and looked around. "What?"

"Look up!"

On the ceiling was a rectangle of light. Smoke drifted across it in black clouds, seeping up through the cracks. "Looks like a hatch or something. Wait, I bet it's the trap door that opens up backstage—the techies use it all the time for moving stuff up and down from here. _Cough!_ Come here, if you get on my shoulders I think you can reach it."

"What? There's no way in,_ cough!_, heck. Even if I got up there, I can't pull you up."

"You could just tell someone to come unlock the door, and I'll run back."

"Don't be stupid, I'm not leaving you down here. But if they really use this thing that often there's gotta be stairs or a ladder or something, right?"

Usually there was an automated platform that moved up and down, but it had been broken for years, so it didn't take much searching until they found a step ladder leaning against the wall. They set it up just under the hatch and climbed up it, each on either side. They pushed on the square, but it didn't move.

"Look for a latch," Arnold said. They prodded the ceiling, eyes watering, and their coughing getting worse.

"Ah, here it is!" Helga slid it back with some effort, and Arnold took a step up the ladder to push the hatch with his shoulder. It was heavy, but he gave it a good shove and the door popped open and landed on the other side with a loud BANG. Light poured onto their heads, and the smoke spilled out into the open space beyond. Arnold climbed out of the trap door, waving the smoke away from his face, and crouched to help pull Helga up. They stood for a minute, coughing and happy to be back in the light.

"You ok?" He asked.

"Yeah, are you?"

"Yeah."

They smiled. After a second, Helga looked around.

"Arnold."

"What, Helga?"

"I don't think that trap door opens up backstage."

Arnold turned to see what she was seeing. "Oh."

They were standing center stage in the auditorium, lights bearing down on them, and smoke dramatically billowing up around them. In front of them, the several hundred students of the Sophomore class sat in their seats. Behind them, Lila and Eugene stood at their podiums, with one podium to the side, empty. Everyone just stared at them.

In the middle of the audience, about four rows back, Gerald blinked up at his best friend, who had just very boldly entered through the floor. He glanced at the surprised faces around him before beginning to chant lightly, "Arnold, Arnold, Arnold..." He elbowed Lenny next to him, and he and Phoebe joined in, their voices slowly rising, "Arnold, Arnold, Arnold..." Some kids around them started to catch on and the chant rose until the majority of the audience was stomping their feet and shouting, "ARNOLD! ARNOLD! ARNOLD!"

* * *

Helga stood just inside the school entrance, looking out into the rain. School had just ended, and students rushed past her and covered their heads as they ran for the buses. She had forgotten her umbrella, of course, and her leg still kind of hurt from her fall earlier so she wasn't up for running. Ah, well. A good walk in the cold rain seemed to match her current mood, anyway. She stepped out and limped down the steps, rain drops falling in her hair and on her nose.

The assembly had ended hours ago. After emerging from the trap door, Mrs. Joy ushered Helga off stage and slammed the hatch shut. Arnold took his place at his podium and delivered his rousing speech, which was accented by the eerie smoke that still escape through the trap door cracks. R.J. finally lost his cool backstage and yelled at a stage hand, and Curly probably would have tackled Arnold, but Brainy had effectively duct taped him to a chair. The Freshman assembly had to be canceled, due to the smoke filling the auditorium, and a group of techies in gas masks braved going into the basement to turn off the smoke machine.

Polls were cast during fourth period, and after a hurried count and then recount, the official student council was announced just before school ended, with Arnold as Sophomore class president. Usually, campaign managers became vice president (which was the reason for the great competition concerning them), but Sid, after being let out of the broom closet, said he'd had enough of the stress of politics. Lila, the first runner up to president, was named vice president instead. Eugene was all smiles, and shook their hands and told them that he was glad for the extra time he now had, because he still had the winter play to choreograph.

Helga, well, she felt sad. And that annoyed her. She had waited in anticipation to hear them announce the president, but the relief she had been hoping for didn't come. Instead, a feeling of dread settled over her. Now Arnold would be too busy for her; he'd go and make student council friends and hang out with Lila and Helga would have just what she wanted: his absence. Whoopee. _Knock it off, fool_, she scolded herself. _You knew this would happen. This is what you've been working for. _Now she could go back to her life as it had been without Arnold. That's what she wanted.

She also really wanted to punch something.

She was nearly to the school gate when she felt the constant stream of rain on her head stop. She paused and looked up to see an umbrella over her head. And, sure enough, there was an annoyingly cute football head holding it.

"I've been looking for you," Arnold said. "I wanted to say thanks for all of your help this week, Helga. I couldn't have done it without you."

She just grunted a response, too busy looking at the umbrella and battling a strong sense of deja vu. A couple girls passed by them and said hello to Arnold so Helga took the opportunity of his distraction to look at him without being noticed. He was still wearing his white collared shirt under his jacket and his slacks were damp at the hem from puddles. Rain fell on his exposed shoulders since he held the umbrella over her. _Well, just look at him_, she thought, rubbing the hand he had held earlier with her other. _The noble Mr. President, protecting girls from the rain and still finding the chance to converse with the random passersby as though he wanted nothing more than to say hello. He's like the Grinch's worst nightmare._

Arnold turned back to Helga. "Anyway. Thanks, Helga. It meant a lot to me."

"Sure thing, _el_ _presidante. _Starting food fights, sending you to the principal's office, getting locked in the basement... Just doing my patriotic duty to help."

He smirked. "Your patriotic duty, huh? No ulterior motives?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I only had one terior motive."

"Sure, you did."

She was going to say something snotty, but he was only smiling at her. Then she forgot what she was going to say, anyway.

"If you still have something bugging you, Helga, you can tell me. I'd like to help." There was no response from her, so he just good naturedly put the umbrella in her hand.

She looked down at the handle. What, was it going to become a thing, now, him letting her borrow stuff? Did she look that weak? "Huh. Well, I could protest," She gestured to the umbrella, "But I know there's no arguing with your deranged sense of chivalry."

"Glad you see things my way." He shifted his weight awkwardly for a moment then moved forward, and for one panicking second Helga thought he looked like he might hug her. "I'll see you on Monday, Helga." He began stepping away, then said as an afterthought, "By the way, I like your bow. Its very pink."

Oh, heck, no.

He did _not _just say that.

Helga gaped at him, but the irony of the situation and those words were lost on Arnold and he simply finished, "It reminds me of when we were kids." He smiled and backed away. "See you later." Then he turned and jogged back towards the school. Helga watched him go, then held the umbrella low over her head to hide her burning cheeks.

Twelve years. Twelve years since almost this exact same scenario had happened. And, again, all her resolve and fighting spirit had been completely obliterated in seconds, and she was left defenseless against him. Her denial had already been weakening lately, she'd barely been holding onto it, but such a powerful stirring of past emotions had brought forth all the feelings she had been suppressing. There was nowhere to run to this time. He had her cornered, and he didn't even know it.

"Dang it, you stupid football head..." She muttered to herself, "There's just no escape from you, is there?"

The rain continued to fall and students continued to hurry home, and no one noticed the girl who stood alone at the edge of the sidewalk, twisting her borrowed umbrella, her heart sore.

* * *

A/N: Did your heart wrench? Just a little bit?


	7. Loose Screws

A/N: Hey Arnold!—Craig Bartlett

Charlie Brown characters—Charles M. Schulz

Chapter 7: Loose Screws

Gerald sat during lunch, one hand under the table holding Phoebe's, and his knee bouncing up and down in agitation. The pair watched with a sigh as their best friends sat next to each other across the table, arguing.

Arnold was saying something like, "Because the government of Prince Ivan was _not_ a true monarchy, the clerics ran the other half of the town—"

And Helga kept cutting him off, "The clerics were the only literate people in the whole town, melon head, they would have been the only ones able to read the writing, making them the last to be suspected by the court. Doi."

"_No_, making them the best suspects. They knew what was happening and purposely suppressed it in order to manipulate Ivan and receive the commission for the book of prayers instead of—"

"Well maybe Baba Yaga just ate the stupid book of prayers!"

Gerald had no idea what they were talking about, probably something for their stupid project, and he didn't really care to know. All he knew was that this was a Wednesday, and it was the first time Arnold had been able to eat with them in a week, what with the elections and being super busy as president, and Gerald was getting tired of their bickering. It seemed like every few minutes Arnold would say something off-hand and Helga, for some reason or another, took it as a personal attack, and soon she was picking a fight and Arnold was stubbornly countering. It was beginning to get on everyone's nerves. Teri was sitting on Helga's other side, and every time she gestured angrily, she accidentally bumped him or elbowed him and made him spill his Naked or broccoli or potato chips. Lenny didn't seem too concerned since he just kept sneaking Helga's food off her tray when she wasn't paying attention. Gerald had no idea how Agatha was feeling—he never could get a grasp on her. In fact, at that moment, she was just staring at him. Without blinking.

He leaned toward Phoebe and said quietly, "She's staring at me again..."

Phoebe whispered back, "Say hi."

"Hi." He said.

"Hi," Agatha responded, but didn't look away.

Agatha was a bit of an anomaly to Gerald. Actually, she kind of creeped him out. Teri always talked about the albino like she was a cute little puppy, but Gerald wasn't seeing it. She hardly showed emotion, except to her direct group of friends, and the other half of the time, she just...watched. Maybe Sid was getting to him; Sid, paranoid as ever, thought she was a cyborg with laser vision. Gerald had mentioned to Phoebe that he always found Agatha staring at him, and his girlfriend simply replied, "She likes to watch people—she finds them fascinating," which practically confirmed she was a robot.

After a second, Agatha said, "You're shaking the table."

Gerald stopped bouncing his knee. "Sorry."

Across from them, Arnold and Helga's conversation was reaching its climax when Arnold said, "Well, maybe you're _wrong_. Ever think of that?"

To which Helga exclaimed, "_I'm_ wrong?" and accidentally bumped Arnold's tray with a stray elbow. The contents got knocked over, spoiling the tray, and the milk spilled across the table and onto Gerald's lap, who jumped up and stepped away.

"Agh! Guys!" He snapped at them. "Will you chill out! Seriously, what's with you two? You're squabbling like my parents over electricity bills!"

Lenny shook his head seriously and said, "And we all know that that only ends in tears," but everyone ignored him. Phoebe gathered the napkins from the trays around the table and soaked up the spilled milk.

Helga said, "Well, hey, there's no use crying over spilled milk, right? Get it? Heh heh..." Arnold just narrowed his eyes at her. "Sheesh, tough crowd."

Arnold picked up the empty carton and slid the ruined tray towards Helga. "Here, throw that out."

"What, me? You've got legs. _You_ do it."

"I would, but I'm _so tired_ from getting up early for my _morning detention_."

They were nose to nose, glaring, and Helga said with dripping animosity, "I would just _love_ to."

"I knew you would." He patted her cheek sarcastically, and for a minute everyone at the table thought she was going to dump the tray on his head, she looked so livid. But she stood and said with forced calm, "I'll be back."

Gerald rubbed at his damp pants while Helga walked away, shouting at a kid in front of her, "Can't you see I'm walkin' here?" He glanced at Arnold just in time to see a quick smile disappear from his face. No one else noticed the expression, but Gerald said incredulously, "_Dude._"

Arnold looked at him with surprise. "What?"

"I'm suddenly parched. Come with me to get a soda. Now."

"Uh, ok..."

Gerald led the way across the cafeteria, but instead of stopping in front of the soda machine he grabbed Arnold and pulled him behind it. "Are you crazy?"

"Crazy? What are you talking about?"

"I'm not blind, Arnold, and even if I were, it's not like you're exactly subtle. I mean, you haven't seen her in days, but yesterday when Moze mentioned her at practice you were so distracted that you didn't notice the basketball flying straight at your face. It knocked you right on your butt! Just say it: you like Helga Pataki."

Arnold's cheeks flushed and he looked uncomfortable. "I dunno what you're...I'm not..." He sighed, "All right, I like Helga."

"I _knew_ it!"

"Shut up, not so loud!" He glanced around cautiously, but the students in the cafeteria were just as preoccupied with their meatloaf surprise as they were before.

Gerald continued in a harsh whisper. "You like Helga Pataki!" He stared at him for a second before pulling on a couple strands of Arnold's hair.

"Ow! What are you doing?"

"Looking for loose screws."

Arnold pushed him away. "I'm not crazy! I just...like her. I thought you said she was cool, anyway."

"Well, yeah, I mean, she's pretty chill now. But to say you _like_ like her? That's a totally different story, man. It's her favorite pastime to bug the crap out of you. And I don't think 'Helga Pataki' and 'girlfriend material' have ever been in the same sentence before unless there was a big fat 'not' in the middle."

"Why? What makes her so different from other girls?"

"I dunno, she's just...Helga. What happened when you were locked in the basement with her last week? You hit your head and she's the first one you saw when you woke up?"

Arnold glared at him. "No, I did _not_ hit my head."

He shook his head. "Ok, wait, are you sure you're not just _thinking_ you like her, now that she's here again and seems kinda different? Or 'cause she's a challenge or somethin'?"

"Challenge?"

"You know, the chase, the rush, the excitement of going after a girl who's playing hard to get. Or, in this case, impossible to get."

Arnold thought about it for a second. "No...and yes."

"No and yes? How's it both?"

"Well, no, because with her, the chase isn't fun. I like being with Helga when she's just being Helga, and not when she's trying so hard to be someone else. I hate it when she's mean and pushy for no reason. So I guess that also makes it yes, because half the time she's acting out because of some stupid reason or another, but it's not actually her, and I guess that's kind of the challenge—I want to be able to get past all her stubbornness and be with her as her."

"Be with Helga as Helga. Ok." Gerald seemed dubious, but decided to roll with it. "But let me just point out that Helga's the complete opposite of every other girl you've ever liked. In case you've forgotten, you like girls who are nice, smart, pretty, feminine, and friendly. Helga's not your type at all."

Arnold looked over at the table they had been sitting at. Helga had taken her place again, and was now talking back and forth with Phoebe. "Maybe she is my type. I mean she's hot-headed and rash and rude and stubborn and she drives me _crazy_, sure, but there's more to her. She's smart, everyone knows that, and she can be friendly. When she wants to. At least when she is friendly, you know she's completely sincere, there's nothing fake about it. And she can be nice. Just today when we were in the lunch line, they ran out of tapioca pudding and the girl in front of us was super upset about it for some reason, so Helga gave her the one she had."

"Yeah, I was there. Helga said she didn't like tapioca, so what?"

"She lied! Tapioca's her favorite, Gerald, she eats it everyday."

"So...pudding is a big deal?"

"Yes! Helga has this need to keep up this tough-guy act all the time, but underneath it she's actually pretty caring. She doesn't admit it, and she doesn't like it being pointed out because it embarrasses her, and she hates being embarrassed more than anything. But it's there. And whenever she does something nice I think it's a thousand times cooler than when someone who's always nice does something, because it's hard for her and she actually has to work at it. I think that just makes me like her more."

Gerald looked down at his friend. He didn't understand the attraction at all, since he himself wasn't attracted to Helga in the slightest. He thought she could be cool sometimes, and she was best friends with Phoebe, but he didn't really think of her as a girl. Arnold apparently did, though, and he didn't sound crazy, either. Gerald leaned against the wall and looked back at the table. Currently Lenny and Teri were having a milk chugging contest. Halfway through, some milk must have gone down the wrong pipe, because suddenly Lenny was spewing milk and pounding on his chest. Helga cackled loudly, slapping her knee heartily, and Teri and Phoebe laughed along. Agatha finally caught on that it was funny and started giggling. "You really like her, huh, Arnold?"

Arnold watched the table as well. He took his baseball cap off his head and ran a hand through his hair with a sigh before replacing it and leaning next to Gerald. He smiled a little. "...I might actually have a few loose screws. But yeah."

Gerald shrugged, smiling. "All right, man. Then I got your back."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." They fist bumped, wagging their thumbs. "What can I do to help get you two crazy kids get together?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Together?"

"Yeah, you know. Boyfriend, girlfriend. That's what happens when you like someone, dude."

"I know that. I do like her, but dating her is easier said than done. We get along ok sometimes, and if she could stop fighting with me for five minutes, maybe. I don't know why she feels she has to pick a fight with me all the time—she doesn't hate me anymore, but maybe she just doesn't think of me like that. Or maybe she likes someone else."

"What poor soul could she like?"

Arnold shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe she does like Moze."

"Moze?"

"She said yes when he asked her out, didn't he? She wouldn't have done that unless she liked him at least a little bit. Maybe that's what's been bugging her."

Gerald spent a lot of time with the Senior, and he was pretty certain that Moze didn't think of Helga like that, but even though Arnold didn't say so outright, Gerald could tell it was something that actually bothered him. "Moze, hmm. You want me to take him down? 'Cause I will."

Arnold chuckled. "You? Take down Moze?"

"Are you doubting my skill? I think I've played enough Street Fighter by now." He rubbed his knuckles on his shirt. "I could take him."

"You hold the record at the arcade for Street Fighter, but it's not even close to real fighting. You've never even been in a fight."

"I took that crash course you taught last summer."

"That was a self defense class for fifth graders. Timberly took you down, remember?"

"Hey, hey! I let her win. Besides, I have learned much since then, Arnold Sensei."

"Have you?" Arnold pushed from the wall and placed his hands together in front of him. He said solemnly, "Well, then, grasshopper, if you can remove the hat from my head then I shall deem you ready."

"That it? Piece of cake, Miyagi." He lunged, but Arnold sidestepped, sticking his foot out to trip him. Gerald regained his balance and turned, "Ha! Can't throw me that easy!...Arnold?" Arnold wasn't by the coke machine anymore. Gerald looked around to see Arnold already halfway back to their table. "What the? How'd you get over there?" He followed, calling, "Hey, no fair, you can't use your Grandma's secret ninja moves! That's totally cheating!" Arnold shot him a quick smirk over his shoulder before reaching the table and taking his seat next to Helga, who raised an eyebrow and asked him where the heck he'd been? Had the two idiots gotten lost on their way to the vending machine?

* * *

_All right, me. Here's the 411: You're in love with a boy named Arnold. Arnold is a great guy who's actually pretty nice to you. It makes you really happy when you think about him, and see him and junk like that._

_ Problem: You're in love with a boy named Arnold. Arnold is a great guy who's actually pretty nice to _everyone_. It ticks you off when you think about him, and see him and junk like that because 1) feelings suck and 2) feelings REALLY suck when they're for someone who doesn't like you like that. You thought you'd grown out of those feelings, but, low and behold, you were dead wrong. Those feelings just wanted to let you _think_ you'd escaped so that they could drag you back and laugh at you when you look stupid._

Like now. She felt really stupid, standing across the street from Sunset Arms, staring at it like it was filled with the plague—so horrifying you didn't want to approach, and yet you couldn't tear your gaze away. She'd been walking "nonchalantly" back and forth for over an hour, and she really hoped no one inside the house had looked out a window and seen her. Once, a small man in glasses and a bowtie approached the door, presumably a boarder there, and she dove behind a car parked on the street until he was safely inside. Now she glanced at her phone, which told her it was almost five. Arnold would be home from basketball practice soon, and then she'd have to actually go ring the doorbell.

That's right. She had been invited to Sunset Arms for an evening visit. Actually it wasn't a visit, Arnold had just told her to come over so they could finish up the Baba Yaga project and work on the posters for the dance that Rhonda had been bugging them about for the last few days. He was taking time out of his busy schedule to help her with a project for a class he wasn't even in anymore, so she figured she couldn't say no. Besides, she couldn't help herself: this was the first and last time she'd probably be invited to his house, so, by golly, she was taking the opportunity.

Today at lunch was the first time in days that she'd seen him. Well, that wasn't entirely true; she'd once seen the top of his hair above the heads of a crowd he was surrounded by, fifty feet away. According to Gerald, Arnold was constantly being approached by Sophomores with some problem or another, looking for the advice and help of the president. He barely had a moment's peace. He'd only been able to get away at lunch because Lila had told him she'd handle the job for the day and he should try to take a break. Helga had been so excited to see him at lunch and have him away from Lila that she had wasted no time in picking a fight.

She sighed. Over the past few weeks she'd been struggling to be a good polite acquaintance, but it seemed that as soon as she realized she still loved him, it was impossible to control herself. It was all her fault, too—he wasn't acting any different, but it was like now that she was aware of how close her emotions always were to the surface, she was tense and defensive, trying not to give anyone else any idea of what was happening. Except Phoebe. There was no fooling Phoebe. Helga refused to talk about it, but Phoebe just kept giving her these sly looks whenever Arnold was mentioned. It kind of ticked her off. Which just made her emotions more strained. "Why?" She asked herself. "Why can I not escape the juvenile trap of letting my emotions run amok? Why must I protect myself from feelings by lashing out against what I love?"

It was a dilemma, really. _But this is the perfect chance for me to show that I'm not a brainless beast of rampaging hormones and aggression. I can go in there, and be civil. I'll be cool. They won't even know that I like him, so I can just be chill. You know what, I'm just gonna go over there now. I was invited, after all. I'm a special guest._

She stepped off the curb, glanced down the street for cars, and crossed to Sunset Arms. The boarding house looked exactly the same as she remembered it. It stood still in time, with the same chipped green paint on the door and "Rooms for Rent" sign on the wall. The only visible difference were the curtains in the front windows that had been replaced and were drawn closed, blocking the lowering sun's harsh rays. Helga looked up at the old building that had been the center of her childhood universe. Now that she was only a couple feet away, her courage slackened. Maybe she wouldn't go in just yet. It was weird for her to be there before Arnold, right? His grandparents would think it was strange for some girl to hang around before their grandson was even home, right? She stepped away from the steps up to the front door and over to the alley on the side. She leaned against the wall near the garbage cans and kicked a stray tin can. A rustling by the garbage bag next to her made her look down, and a little pink pig emerged from behind it, munching on an old banana peel.

"Hey, pig," Helga said and crouched down, her elbows on her knees. "You still kickin' around, huh?" Abner snorted and came closer, sniffing her shoe. She wasn't a huge fan of pigs in general, and had never really cared for Abner, but she felt happy to see him. She let him sniff her hand, noticing little gray hairs on his back that showed old age. "You waiting for Arnold? Me, too." She scratched his ear and he snorted happily. "Look at me—hangin' around dark alleys and garbage cans talking to a pig, waitin' for Arnold to come home. Story of my life. I really hope it's not a sign of how my future will be. What do you think, Abner?"

He just rolled on his back and let her pat his stomach.

"So, Helga. You come here often?"

Helga stood so fast she knocked over the closest garbage can, spilling all its guts. Arnold leaned his elbows on another garbage can near her and smiled at her pleasantly.

"What is _wrong_ with you? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry." He didn't look very sorry. He leaned down to rub Abner's head when the pig excitedly put his front hooves on Arnold's leg. "What are you doing back here?" He asked Helga.

"I...was...throwing something...away." _I was not hiding behind the garbage because I've been creepishly waiting for you for a long time but I was too chicken to go inside your house because I'm not sure I could handle just acting like I don't like you in any sort of extra way other than just polite acquaintance-hood and was afraid I might completely spaz out._ "What took you so long, football head? I've been waiting for ages."

"Beezus had us practicing overtime 'cause of the Junior Varsity game coming up. It's our big match against Darville High." He straightened and adjusted his backpack, leading Helga and Abner out of the alley and to the front steps.

"Oh, yeah, Lenny mentioned it. That's where the rest of the Eagles went. Guess they'll be coming up with the Lions from Darville, then."

"It's our last game to qualify for the playoffs, and Beezus has us working night and day." He opened the door, putting an arm out to hold Helga back as a small stampede of animals burst forth. Abner squealed and joined them as they ran down the street. Helga looked after them, but Arnold entered the house unconcerned. "I'm home!"

Helga entered the brightly lit home that felt cozy against the October chill. _Oh my gosh, I'm inside Arnold's house. I'm in his house, and I didn't even have to sneak in!_ She glanced around, thinking not much had changed, except for some photos on the wall that had been updated. Ahead of them in the hall was a short woman, five feet tall at the most, with broad shoulders, short brown hair, and wide set eyes. She leaned against the wall next to the old rotary telephone that sat on a table by the stairs, chewing on a toothpick.

"Hey, Holly," Arnold said, shutting the door behind Helga.

"Hey, kid," Holly replied. "Someone called for you."

"Oh, yeah? Did they leave a message?"

"Sure did."

"What is it?"

Holly held out her hand expectantly. Arnold sighed and rummaged in his pocket. He handed Holly a dollar bill which she put in her bra. "It was someone selling customized stationary. Said they could get you fifty percent off if you ordered before Friday."

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Holly."

From the kitchen, Arnold's grandpa called, "Arnold! Is that you?"

"Yes, Grandpa."

"Come give me a hand a minute!"

Helga followed Arnold to the kitchen. As she passed Holly, they looked each other up and down. Holly was in cargo pants and combat boots and Helga's jeans were torn and her expression was stern. After a second they nodded, each clearly expressing the thought "this woman is my kind of woman".

"Who's that, Arnold?" Helga asked quietly before entering the kitchen.

"That's Holly Potts, Ernie's wife. You remember Ernie?"

"The angry midget?"

"Yeah. She manages a construction company from your side of town—they used to compete for work, but they fell in love instead."

"Well, whadaya know. Some freaks do find love." It was a comforting thought, really.

The kitchen was bright and warm but it smelled awful. Helga covered her nose with a sleeve and Arnold crinkled his. "Ugh, what's that smell, Grandpa?"

Phil was standing at the table, rummaging through the toolbox. He looked just as good at age eighty eight as he had at eighty one, which, admittedly, wasn't that great, with his stubbly chin and missing teeth, but he was still muscley and full of energy and Helga felt nostalgia sweeping over her at the sight of him.

Phil said angrily, "That would be the smell of the garbage disposal backing up. This old house is falling apart at the seams! Someday I'm going to burn it down, say Oskar did it, and collect the fire insurance." He pulled a screwdriver and a snake from the toolbox, and turned, stubbing his toe on a small wooden stand. "Oh, Pookie, get this thing out of here! It's just in the way!"

Gertrude sat behind the little stand, in a blue baby doll dress and a black wig. A big wooden sign above her said "Psychiatric help, 5 cents" and the front of the booth read "The doctor is IN". "Now, Shroder," Gertrude said to her husband, "No need to be so tense!" She turned to her grandson. "About time you got home, Charlie Brown. How about a nickel?"

"Don't mind her, Shortman," Phil said from the sink, "She saw the Charlie Brown Halloween special on TV today. Been talking about the Great Pumpkin all afternoon."

"Well, then, let's have it!" Gertrude demanded. "Just one shiny nickel!"

Arnold again dug around in his pocket. He dropped a nickel in the can beside his grandmother. She picked it up and shook it. "Oh, boy, just listen to that ring! Listen to that chime! What a beautiful sound! One whole nickel!" She put the can down. "All right, Charlie Brown, here's my advice: 'You can't drift along forever—you have to direct your thinking. For instance you have to decide whether you're going to be a liberal or a conservative. You have to take some sort of stand. You have to associate with some sort of cause.'*"

He looked at Helga and she shrugged. He said, "Right. Thanks, Grandma. I'll keep that in mind."

"Pookie, leave him alone, I need his help with this! Arnold, grab a wrench and head to the basement and start banging some pipes to see if..." Phil trailed off when he turned. "Oh, you brought a friend."

"Grandpa, you remember Helga Pataki. She used to live over where the Berreda's live now."

"Uh, hi." Helga said, aware that she was now being properly introduced to Arnold's family. "Nice to meet you, uh, again."

"Pataki? Hmm," Phil narrowed his eyes at her and rubbed his chin. "Wait a minute..." He walked over and held the screwdriver in his hand up to her, horizontal across her brow line. "Ha! I remember!"

"Grandpa!" Arnold quickly waved the screwdriver away. "Leave her alone. She's here so we can work on a project for school."

"Riiiight," Phil winked at him, "A 'project'."

"Grandpa!" Arnold's cheeks were pink and Helga didn't know what to do, laugh or run away.

"Ee hee, don't be so bashful," Phil elbowed Arnold. "It's been a while since you brought a girl home."

"It's not like that!"

She felt a little pang. _Yeah, it's not like that. It won't ever be like that. _

Phil put a hand on his hip. "Oh, pish posh, why not? You like girls, don't you? Sheesh, I'm starting to wonder about you."

"You and me both, Gramps," Helga said brusquely, spurred on by the little pang of rejection, "Look at how he color coordinates his shirts with his shoes. I'm starting to wonder, too, honestly."

Arnold looked down at his outfit—a blue t-shirt with a long sleeved red shirt over it. His converse had the same color scheme. "I just happen to like these colors, get over it. All my clothes are these colors."

"Yeesh, I know. You're a What Not to Wear nightmare." She didn't mention that she thought it looked good on him. "Maybe that's why he doesn't bring girls home—he doesn't know any who are colorblind."

"Real mature, Helga."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Phil cackled and slapped Helga on the shoulder, almost knocking her over. "Hee hee, I like this one! You should invite her over more often!"

"Yeah, I bet you two'd get a real kick out of each other." Arnold replied dryly and grabbed a wrench from the toolbox. "I'll go find that pipe. I'll be back in a minute. Grandpa, try not to embarrass me while I'm gone."

"Who, me? Embarrass you? I would never!"

Arnold pointed two fingers at his own eyes and then at his grandpa.

When he turned, Phil leaned towards Helga and whispered loudly. "He's such a stick in the mud, isn't he?"

"I'll say. Maybe he'll get lost in the basement and we won't have to deal with him for a while."

"Only if we're lucky."

Arnold rolled his eyes and headed to the basement door.

Phil continued, "Look at him, so grown up and doing the plumbing. It seems like just yesterday he was escaping from the bath and running out the door, naked as a newborn! He scared Mrs. Vitello so bad, she dropped on the sidewalk, and we all thought he'd killed her. In fact, I think that was just yesterday..."

"_Grandpa_!" Arnold shouted from halfway down the stairs.

Phil chuckled, "Oh, what are grandsons for if not their grandparents' amusement, eh?" He winked at Helga who smiled at him before he headed to the sink again. Helga turned to Gertrude, who was watching her with a vacant smile.

"Have any nickels,there, Peppermint Patty?"

Helga searched her pockets and dropped a coin in the can. While Gertrude picked it up and shook it by her ear, Phil said, "Peppermint Patty? Don't you think Helga should be Lucy? Lucy's always calling Charlie Brown names and being mean to him. Helga used to pull all those pranks on Arnold and teased him all the time, until he was hopping mad, heh heh! No one could make him mad like she could. She's a natural."

Gertrude shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous, Shroder. This is Peppermint Patty."

"Who's Peppermint Patty?" Helga said, trying to remember the old cartoon.

"Kind of a rude, tomboyish girl with that really smart friend with glasses," Phil said, banging on the sink, "Played softball, called Charlie Brown 'Chuck' all the time, beat up the boys..."

"Sounds boss."

"If I remember right, she had a big crush on Charlie, too."

Helga looked at Gertrude. Gertrude just smiled back at her. _Oh my gosh, she knows. How does she know? Is it written all over my face?_

Gertrude said, "So what's your problem, Patty? Moral issues? Politics? Looove?"

_She does, she knows! Run! _"Uh, you know, I think I'll wait for Arnold in the living room."

In the living room, Ernie was sitting on the couch with Mr. Hyunh while commercials drolled by on the TV. Ernie's hairline was receding, and Mr. Hyunh's hair was more gray than black, but they both laughed at the dancing bear advertising break fluid.

"Wow, get a load of this guy! What a lame brain, huh, Hyunh?" Ernie shook his head.

"He is just so stupid. I can not watch!" Mr. Hyunh replied in his halting English.

Helga sat in the chair to the side of them and watched the poor idiot of a bear trip over his overlarge paws. "Heh, idiot."

"Hey!" Oskar said from the living room entrance. Strapped around him was a baby carrier, and inside a baby with big ears drooled, his feet dangling. In Oskar's hand was a leash strapped to a little girl with curly blond hair. "Somebody is sitting in my chair!" Oskar whined in his thick accent, glaring at Helga.

"Uh, sorry," She stood and he sat down with a huff.

"Lay off, Kokoshka," Ernie said, flipping the channel. "It's not your chair, anyway, and Grandpa hates it when you say that."

"You can sit by me," Mr. Hyunh said to Helga, "I promise. I do not bite."

She slouched onto the couch. She didn't feel uncomfortable at all around these men. It had been years since she'd seen this group of lovable weirdos and knowing that boarders frequently came and went from this building, she was glad that they all still lived here. She'd rarely spoken to them as a kid, but they were part of Arnold's family, and, therefore, she had fond memories of them. Many times she had looked through the windows, when she was having a bad day with her own screwed up family, and wished that she could be a part of them. She had fantasized about it so many times that sitting there now seemed almost natural, and she pretended that it was because she'd done it a hundred times and would do it a hundred more.

"You got stuck watching the brats again, huh, Kokoshka?" Ernie said, holding the remote out of the little girl's reach.

"Suzy is at work," Oskar said. "Besides, that stupid babysitter did not know what she was doing. My little Iva only eats chopped carrots, not sliced."

"What's the difference? A carrot's a carrot."

"Shows what you know. This is why I am a father and you are not." Oskar said haughtily, while the baby blew snot bubbles and Iva chewed on the leash holding her back.

"Hello," Hyunh greeted Helga, "You are a friend of Arnold's, yes? I am Mr. Hyunh, it is nice to meet you."

She wasn't surprised no one remembered her. "Yeah, same."

"You know, my daughter, Mai, is a few years older than you. Recently she had a baby with her husband. Would you like to see?" Helga shrugged, so he pulled out his wallet and opened it. A long train of pictures folded out.

Ernie groaned, "Oh, no, Hyunh, don't even start. You'll bore the girl to death."

"No one wants to hear about your smelly grandbaby," Oskar said.

Hyunh looked indignant. "He is no smelly! Your baby is smelly!"

Oskar sniffed the baby strapped to him. "I know, but I don't change the stinky ones. That is Suzy's job."

"So you're just going to leave him filthy?" Ernie said, reluctantly playing a tug of war with Iva over the remote. "Some dad you are!"

Helga didn't know what the big deal was; her dad carried around a train of pictures three times as long, of Olga's baby, Danny Jr. She was going to listen to Mr. Hyunh's story, anyway, but just then Iva changed the channel and she got distracted. "Hold on, stay there! Is that the Cain Slasher and Juan Diego grudge match?"

"What?" Ernie demanded, "I thought that wasn't until next week!"

"Obviously not, 'cause there it is!" The wrestlers flexed in the arena as they readied for battle, cameras flashing around them while heavy metal music played.

"Man, I can't believe it!" Ernie was so excited he was standing on the couch. "Lucky we caught it. This is the biggest match of the season! Cain'll slaughter this guy!"

Helga scoffed at the short man. "Oh, _please_, Juan Diego's the best rookie of the decade, and grandpa Cain's no match for him. He'll snap Cain like a twig."

"Girly, you don't know what you're talking about. Cain has been champion of the Hans Grizzly belt three years in a row and that stuttering Hispanic guy isn't going to get in his way of a title. He'll break him, girly, just you wait and see."

"Ha! You're delusional, old man. There's no way!"

Oskar moaned, "I hate these shows. There is nothing good about sweaty men in little underwears."

Helga crossed her arms at Ernie, "I bet you ten bucks Juan takes him down before the third round."

Oskar immediately perked up. "I'll raise you another ten!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later Helga climbed the stairs to Arnold's room, fanning herself with the cash she had collected from the men downstairs. Arnold had wandered into the living room, covered in pipe grease, just as Juan Diego was crushing Cain Slasher, and the residents of Sunset Arms were shaking their heads and shouting at the TV and Helga was pumping her fist in the air and gloating in their faces. Ernie told Arnold that they liked his girlfriend well enough but to take her away before she took the rest of their cash. Arnold told her to go ahead up to his room, so he could wash off some of the muck in the bathroom.

She stood at the top of the stairs to his room and just for a second contemplated the surreality of being there. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

The setting sun's light filtered in from the glass ceiling, casting pleasant shadows around the room. Like the rest of the house, the room had changed little, only reflecting the growing age of the boy who lived there. The computer on his desk was newer, the stereo had surround sound speakers, and the U.S.S. Enterprise and Millennium Falcon had been added to the model airplanes hanging from the ceiling. A couple band posters were on the wall, and more than one dirty shirt was draped over the astronomer's telescope standing in the corner. The carpet was the same hideous carpet, and the bed looked exactly as she had remembered it.

Helga took a deep breath. The whole room smelt like him.

She meandered over to the bookshelf with the stereo and glanced at the old records and newer CDs carefully organized by a system she didn't understand. They were all free of dust, showing the value of them to their owner. Tacked to the side of the bookshelf were a few pictures of Arnold's summer baseball team, the basketball team, the Sunset Arms boarders, and a faded one of Gerald and him dressed as fruits. She recognized the costumes and chuckled at the memory.

She poked around his desk for a bit, flipping through half-done homework assignments with sketches of buildings, chairs, and windows in their margins; riffled through some drawers of this-and-thats; and then turned to the shelves that covered the wall behind Arnold's bed. Various objects filled the shelves, from books, to third grade science projects, to a small pile of home run baseballs and old mitts. She came closer and leaned over the bed, to better see some of the random knick knacks, and an old brown journal with a picture sitting on top of it caught her eye. A blond man with a broken arm and a pretty brunette woman smiled up at her from a tropical background. She picked up the picture of Arnold's parents, carefully and with wonder. It was easy to pick out all the facial features the parents shared with the child, and after a minute she delicately propped the picture against the journal so it could be seen easier. She glanced up at the rest of the bookshelf and did a double take.

In a high corner, tucked between some Agatha Caulfield children's books, was a small, bright pink book. No way. She immediately kicked her shoes off, stood on the bed, and climbed up the shelves, reaching for it. Just when she was about to pull it down, though, something else in front of her distracted her. A small red shoe, covered in dust and nearly hidden by the stack of books leaning on it. Helga cautiously moved the books aside, thinking that it couldn't be what she that it was, but sure enough, there sat a strappy red high heel, children's size 8.

Arnold finished his business in the bathroom, having scrubbed his hands and shed the red over shirt that had been stained. He took the steps to his room two at a time and walked in, surprised when he saw Helga five feet off the ground, standing on the shelves behind his bed. She didn't turn around when he came in so he shut the door and came over, hopping on the bed. "What are you looking at?"

Helga jumped, shocked, and almost fell off the shelves completely. "What, what—_stop_ sneaking up on me!" She said angrily, dropping back onto the bed.

"Sorry," It was just so easy to do. Sometimes she could get so focused on whatever she was doing that she pretty much didn't pay any attention to what was going on around her. Besides, it was kind of fun. "What are you doing?"

"I was, uh, just looking," She replied, flustered.

He glanced down at what she was holding. "Hey, you found that old shoe."

"Uh-huh." She held it out. "I don't suppose it's yours, twinkle toes?"

He took it and wiped some of the dust off it. "It belonged to a girl I met once, a long time ago."

Helga tried to play it cool, saying off-handedly, "Oh, yeah? She must have been pretty important if you kept her shoe around all this time."

He shrugged. "I only knew her for a day. But she was really sweet and I liked her a lot. I didn't even know her name. Sometimes I hoped I'd see her again, but I never did."

He handed the shoe back to Helga and she looked down at it. She had thrown the other one out a long time ago, assuming she'd lost this one somewhere in the street that night years ago. But Arnold had taken it. And he'd kept it. Because he'd liked her, thought she was sweet. And he'd thought he'd never see "Cecile" again. "You idiot..." She said lightly.

Arnold blinked at her. The "idiot" didn't phase him in the slightest, but what caught his attention was her face. Just for a second, as she'd said that to him, all her pretenses had melted, and all that was left was a tender, sad smile. For just a moment he'd seen Helga as he'd never seen her, and standing this close and comfortable he felt special—she'd dropped her wall for him. She'd let him in, for a split second. Then it was gone, and she was putting the shoe back on its shelf, but the moment left a small wake in him. Maybe this relationship wasn't as hopeless as he'd thought earlier. Helga sauntered off the bed and scooped up the remote that operated the couch in the wall. He watched her flop down on it before following, forgetting the distant memory of a girl from long ago and turning all his attention to the woman in front of him.

Helga said, "Well, then, Chuck, let's get this stuff over with."

They pulled out poster board and markers and went around on their hands and knees, drawing up haunted houses and swing dancing vampires. After a half hour they were reasonably proud of the posters and put them to the side, hoping Rhonda would think they were acceptable. Then they pulled out some books with ghosts and demons and Baba Yaga eating small children, and tried to scrape up enough information of the old legend to actually work with. An hour and ten minutes into this, their brains were starting to fry. Arnold sat in his desk chair, spinning in circles and staring at the ceiling, and Helga lay on the floor, her feet propped up on the couch, a book laying open on her face.

Phil came in to check on them then with a tray of sandwiches and milk. He said they ought to be grateful since he'd successfully made up an excuse to his wife and saved them from having to eat the "Great Pumpkin" and cabbage-beef pie the rest of the house was eating.

The food helped give them some energy and they moved along, glad to be hardly fighting at all, and sitting on the floor surrounded by papers and books. The light from the glass ceiling had long since disappeared and after a while Arnold began to suppress some yawns.

"Sleepy?" Helga asked, knowing he must be exhausted from waking up early for detention, running back and forth during school as president, helping organize a dance, extra long basketball practices, and on top of all that keeping up with his school work and hers.

"I'm ok. Just worn out from basketball."

"Well, that is one thing I don't miss about it," She said, looking at a picture of Baba Yaga sacrificing virgins. "Having my life completely sucked away by the basketball gods. Then of course I'd come home and my dad would drag me down to the court and make me practice for another couple hours."

"Nice of him to support you so much, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. We do get along better when we talk about sports, but my dad sometimes forgets I'm a girl. The other day he told me I'd better start getting in shape so I could try out for the boys' baseball team in the spring. I think he thinks I'm the son he never had. My mom's not much better—she finally realized I'm nothing like my sister, but I don't think she knows what to do with me. Whatever. It's not like I really know what to do with her." She looked at him from her place on the floor. "Don't get me wrong, football head, just 'cause my family's not perfect like yours doesn't mean we're not fine."

"Perfect? My family is _not _perfect. At least at school PTA potlucks your mom doesn't dress like Queen Ka'iluani in a hula skirt and roasts a pig in the gym, like my grandma. Or get in a fight with your seventh grade math teacher and challenge them to a school-wide arm wrestling tournament, like my grandpa, and the deal is if he loses I have drop out of school."

"Ha ha, boss. At least he must have won."

Arnold flopped down on the floor, the top of his head touching hers. "They're almost ninety years old, but sometimes I feel like the only adult in the house. I'm used to it, I guess, and I love them just the way they are and wouldn't want them to change, but sometimes I'd like to not have to worry."

"I know the feeling. I've been babysitting my parents for years. They're just lucky I turned out so dang awesome, since they really had nothing to do with it. Guess it's a good thing, since you can't survive in this screwed up world unless you learn to rely only on yourself."

Arnold had known that Helga had had this point of view for many years. He loved that she was so independent, but it made him sad, too, that she felt she had no one to lean on. His grandparents were weird, sure, but they were always there for him, and he thought it was important for people to be together. "Well, that's what friends are for. You can rely on them."

"Hmph. I don't know. Lenny's too dumb to help anyone and Teri's advice usually consists of 'Worry about it later; have a cupcake now.' Agatha's a foster child who doesn't understand how to function in the real world. I can't rely on them, they're all too busy relying on me."

In Arnold's head, this was good. She said she was alone and independent, and yet, she protected those around her. "What about Phoebe? You can always rely on Phoebe."

"True, she's always willing. But Phoebe's going places with her life. She doesn't need my baggage holding her back." Helga didn't mean to be unloading on him. She picked up a book again and said, "Whatever. It's not that big of a deal. Guess it's just life," and hoped that would change the subject.

"Helga."

"Huh."

"If you're ever having a hard time, I want you to come here."

She paused. "...Why?"

"It's a good place to be. And I know everyone downstairs liked you. You don't have to be alone." _You can rely on me._

She propped herself up on her elbow and turned to look at him, mildly surprised when she found him lying on the floor, his face upside-down just underneath hers. He looked up at her steadily, and her heart rate spiked at his green-eyed gaze and warm breath on her face. _Back up!_ Her brain was screaming, _This is a recipe for disaster! He'll think you're a total freak! He's probably so creeped out right now!_ But her body wasn't listening. She was tempted, so tempted, to just lean forward and kiss him. It had been a long time since she'd kissed those lips, and she wondered if they tasted as good at sixteen as they had at nine.

Arnold had been just as surprised as she was to find their faces so close. Then he was further surprised to see her cheeks turn a dark red. She was blushing. It wasn't an angry or embarrassed blush like he was used to seeing, either. And she wasn't pulling away in repulsion at all. Fascinating. Maybe she didn't like Moze as much as he thought she might. Maybe Arnold wasn't the only one with a few loose screws. A strand of her hair fell down and brushed his cheek softly, and he was so distracted by how close her face was getting that he almost didn't hear the footsteps climbing the stairs to his door.

He pulled away and sat up and two seconds later his grandfather opened the door.

"Hey, Shortman! You two getting anything done up here?"

Arnold cleared his throat and hoped his own face wasn't too red, not daring to look back at Helga. "Yeah, we're almost done." Total lie. At the moment, he actually couldn't remember what they were supposed to be working on at all.

Phil scratched his head. "Well, that's too bad, I was thinking I could help some. I'm sure you two are far more interesting than listening to that rugrat Iva repeat the story of Winnie the Pooh for the third time. Some kids are just dull as a tack."

"Uh-huh," Arnold replied absently, "Tacks."

Behind him, Helga was facing the wall, her face crimson. She couldn't believe what she'd almost done. She'd almost kissed him! But he'd pulled away. Of course. Glancing up at the little red shoe, she snorted. He might've kissed Cecile. But Helga was just Helga.

She quietly and quickly stacked some of the books around them and tucked them under an arm before standing. "It's late, I'd better be going now." She stepped toward the door, not making eye contact with grandfather or grandson.

"Oh, ok," Arnold stood and followed as she hurried down the stairs and through the hall. Phil followed, saying, "Did I miss something?"

"How are you getting home?" Arnold asked, trying to keep up.

"Bus."

"You shouldn't take the bus, it's late. I'll drive you."

"No, thanks, the bus is fine."

"Grandpa, can I borrow the Packard?"

"Sure, Arnold," Phil answered.

"The Packard, are you kidding? That old thing's still around?" Helga said. "That hunk of junk will fall apart around us. I'd rather take my chances with the bus."

"Hey," Phil said, "That Packard is in prime condition, I'll have you know! A little bit of sweat and love can keep anything together."

"Well, I just spent the last two and a half hours cooped up with you, geek-bait, and I'm ready to be rid of you, so I'm good."

Arnold merely smiled at her harsh attitude, knowing she was just embarrassed. They reached the bottom of the stairs and Helga made for the front door, but Arnold caught her and steered her to the back door. "The Packard's this way."

"I don't care where the stupid Packard is!"

Phil took the keys from his pocket and tossed them to Arnold as they left through the back door. He led a reluctant Helga around to the garage, eventually got her into the car, and pulled out onto the dark streets of Hillwood. The East Side was really more south than east, across the suspension bridge that spanned the river. It was a newer development, having been built and expanded only over the last couple decades. They even insisted on having their own sign that said "Welcome to East Hillwood". The drive from Arnold's to Helga's was a little over twenty minutes, and was mostly done in a mildly tense silence, broken only when Helga gave directions or made fun of his grandma-like driving. Finally, after some serious teasing, he sped up, and Helga said sarcastically, "Wow, three miles over the speed limit. What a rebel."

Helga's apartment building, like many on the East Side, wasn't the usual downtown apartment building. Each floor was a suite, and the homes within were larger than many suburban houses. A doorman stood sentry just inside, and lights glowed down on the green car as it pulled up alongside the curb and stalled.

"Thanks," Helga said, stepping out of the car.

"Sure." He replied. Just before she slammed the door, he called, "Hey, Helga." She looked at him. "What I said earlier, about coming over—I meant it." _I'll be there if you need me._

"I know you did." She knew he would shelter anyone who needed it; he was just that kind of person. But it was still nice to know. _If I have to be stuck in unrequited love, _she though, _at least it's with a good man like you, Chuck_. She shut the car door and turned to her building, but it felt less like home than the run down boarding house that she hadn't been to in years had.

* * *

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, yep. Review if you liked! :D

*Direct quote from Lucy, Charles M. Schulz's character


	8. Lay on the Moves

A/N: Woo! Thank you so much for all the reviews and favorites and for following this story!

-Craig B.

Chapter 8: Lay on the Moves

"Very good, my little cherubs!" Mrs. Joy cooed to her student council. "There you go, Jeffrey! Gretta, don't hurt yourself! Take it easy...deep breaths everyone...exhale...and on to downward dog."

The student council class always began with a "relaxing" sun salutation on Thursday mornings. Mrs. Joy stood at the front of the class in her pink stretchy pants, Enya playing softly in the background. The desks had been pushed aside, shoes had been shed, and yoga mats had been pulled from the cupboard so the student council could follow after their leader. Arnold was toward the back of the class, going through the motions absently along with Gerald, who wasn't actually supposed to be there at all. Lila was a few feet away, obediently doing her yoga next to red faced Gretta and encouraging her when she stopped to breath heavily.

"Are you _sure_ that's what it was?" Gerald said quietly, striking a warrior-one pose.

"Positive," Arnold replied in a whisper.

He whistled low. "Whoa. Were you gonna kiss her back?"

"Of course. But my grandpa came in right then."

Gerald shook his head. "Ah, man. Bad timing, Grandpa."

"He's never been one for finesse."

"Doesn't he know that you haven't kissed a girl since Missy Wiggins planted one on you at the back to school dance in ninth grade?"

They both shuddered at the memory and switched positions at Mrs. Joy's command.

"Missy Wiggins..." Arnold muttered with a wince.

Gerald made a face. "All braces and crazy perm..."

"I still have nightmares."

"_I_ still have nightmares, and it wasn't even me. All the more reason it's a shame he interrupted—any girl's gotta be a better kisser than Missy Wiggins."

"Mr. Johanssen," Mrs. Joy called, her smile too tight, "I don't believe you're supposed to _be_ here."

"Uh..." He was ditching Biology, but he had a good grade in that class, anyway, and Arnold had said he needed to talk to him about something important. Besides, he'd heard the student council always had snacks.

"It's all right, Mrs. Joy," Arnold jumped in, "I invited him. You see, he pulled a muscle during basketball practice and I thought the yoga would be good for it."

"Right, yeah, yeah," Gerald said, rubbing his knee dramatically, "Arnold told me how healing yoga was and what a great instructor he had, so I thought, why not? Mr. Hagberg signed this hall pass, if you want it." He did have a pass, although Mr. Hagberg thought he was in the library, doing an extra credit project. Gerald quickly weaved through the students doing the dancer-pose and handed it to her.

She looked at it sternly, before tossing it aside cheerfully. "Well, then, welcome! We're always glad to impart of whatever we have to the lesser fortunate, aren't we class?" And she took them all into downward dog again.

Arnold continued from their earlier conversation, "But you're missing the point, Gerald. _Helga_ tried to kiss _me_."

"Yeah, that is pretty weird." Gerald put his hands together in front of him, eyes closed.

Arnold did the same, but didn't close his eyes. "No, not weird. Well, it is, but not the way you're thinking. It's weird because it felt...mutual. I think she might like me, Gerald."

Gerald opened an eye at him. "Like you? As in, _like you_, like you?"

Arnold nodded, a little excited. "I've been thinking about it since last night. I know she doesn't hate me, or anything, and I thought maybe all her meanness is just her feeling really uncomfortable around me."

"Because she likes you? And that's why it seems like she's chronically waking up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"Yes. Well, partly. She does have other reasons, sometimes."

"Arnold, you realize this sounds crazy. Stuff like this only works out on TV. You're rationalizing her actions like you know what she's thinking, but you don't, man. Maybe you like her too much so you're just finding things in her that aren't really there."

"Maybe...I hope not."

They followed the rest of the class as they lowered to their mats, stretching. After a second of meditation Gerald said, "Come to think of it, there is always something a little off. Like how she'll yell at you or something, but then when you aren't looking she is always staring at you with these big ol' eyes. And she did work way harder than anyone to make you president. Maybe she does like you."

Arnold perked up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Man, I do not get women...But if she does, what are you going to do about it?"

"I guess I'm going to ask her out."

Gerald turned on him and said a little too loudly, "Ask her out?"

At the front, Mrs. Joy said with eyes closed, "Shhh, Mr. Johanssen...now is not the time for idle chatter. Now is the time to clear your mind. Think healing thoughts. Class, send good vibes to Gerald's knee..."

They meditated like they were supposed to for about ten seconds before Arnold whispered, "What's wrong with asking her out?"

"Arnold, you're a very straightforward kinda guy, and I like that, but Helga is not the kind of lady you simply 'ask out'. Helga is a lady that needs special handling. You said yourself, she has a weird need to feel tough, right? And if she gets all embarrassed or whatever, she might just blow you off. No, you have to get her to confess first."

"Get her to confess?"

"Yep. You see, Helga wants to feel like she's in control. If you get her to confess first, then you're giving her the upper hand by letting her take the lead. She'll feel like it was her idea, so there won't be anything for her to be embarrassed about and she'll feel free to speak her own mind without the pressure of knowing how _you_ feel. Plus, it'll save you the risky business of asking her out. Let's say you ask her out, and it turns out she totally doesn't like you the way you thought and you're completely humiliated and shunned by the whole school. Or, even if she does like you, she might freak out like she does and just make fun of you, and, again, you'll be completely humiliated."

Arnold imagined these scenarios and quickly began to see Gerald's point of view. Mrs. Joy clapped her hands and told them all it was time to go on, and as Arnold was rolling up his mat he asked, "How do I get her to confess first?"

"Simple: you have to go on being your adorable self, and you have to give her every opportunity to say it. If she really likes you, she'll want to tell you, so it won't be that hard. And you should say stuff like—" Gerald's voice dropped an octave, "'Frankly, my dear Helga, I don't give a darn'."

"What? Why that?"

"I dunno, that's what some guy said on one of my mom's shows. It got the girl to love him, and my mom went all ga-ga, too."

"Really? That line did? I don't get it."

"Me neither, but don't question what works, man."

* * *

The library was generally empty during lunch, with only a small handful of nerdy busybodies who wanted to get a head start on next month's homework. These few students, however, had found themselves homeless over the last few days. The library had become overrun with Sophomores, and the busybodies had turned up their noses, taken deep breaths from their inhalers, and stalked off to find a quiet classroom to study in. At the library doors stood Torvald, the oldest, tallest, most muscular kid in the Sophomore grade, and probably in the school. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and kept sentry, determined to protect the important man within.

The back corner of the library was the unofficial headquarters for the Sophomore presidency. Oftentimes there was a line of students, waiting to see the president in order to seek his help with some problem or another. Arnold sat at his usual table and listened to each student before judging just what to do. On this particular Friday, as Arnold listened to the woeful tales of his fellow students, Helga sat next to him. She'd paid Torvald two Yahoo sodas to let her in, had tossed her things on the floor, flipped open a book on Baba Yaga, and propped her feet up on the table and proceeded to pretend to read.

Currently, a pudgy boy stood in front of Arnold, wringing his hat nervously as he retold an overly dramatic story about blackmailing some upperclassmen, that ended with him being stuffed into a locker. Upside down.

Helga glanced over the top of her book at the boy's thick girth. "How'd they get you to fit, pork chop? Butter or grease?"

The boy looked down at himself.

"Don't mind her, Louie," Arnold said. "She gets cranky when she's bored." She grunted. Arnold ignored her and simply lifted her feet momentarily, since they were resting on a stack of papers. He took one and began scribbling on it. Helga briefly glanced at his writing.

"You're sending him up to Park?" She said. "Hmph. That's awful generous of you." She glanced up at Louie and looked at him coolly. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "You should be grateful, Pillsbury. You got yourself in a lot of trouble with the seniors, and the Prez is being far too nice, helping you out."

"Yes, ma'am, I understand."

"You owe him, kid."

"Of course, of course. Anything."

Arnold set the pencil down, folded the paper quickly and held it out to Lou. "Take this to the third floor. Park runs a hideout up there for kids in trouble. Go to room 307 and find Hank—he'll be in the World of Warcraft lab. Tell him you're looking for the Sanctuary. Tell him I sent you." Louie reached for it, but Arnold didn't let it go right away. "Louie, don't tell anyone where you're going, and don't you dare mention Park. A lot of upperclassmen would love to gut-out the Sanctuary. Understand?"

Louie nodded earnestly, tearing up. "Yes, sir."

Arnold let go. "All right. They'll protect you from the seniors while we think of how to help. Go on."

Louie backed away, wiping his nose, cheeks jiggling in excitement. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir. I promise, I won't say anything. Thank you!" He slapped his wrinkled hat back on and tried not to trip over his feet as he hurried away.

For the moment, no other Sophomores were waiting, so Arnold leaned forward on the table and rubbed his face.

Helga shook her head. "You're way too nice to these kids, Arnold. You've only been president for a week, but at this rate they'll be walking all over you by Monday. Besides, it's a Friday. You're supposed to be taking a break from work, aren't you? Relaxing and what not? You haven't even had lunch, though."

Arnold shrugged, straightening some papers in front of him, "It's all right, I've got work. I won't let them walk all over me, but I feel like I have to help. It's my duty."

"Oh, Chuck, you and your sense of duty. But I guess you just wouldn't be you without it. Maybe that's why your head is so big—it's full of morals."

"Morals?"

"Yeah, you know. Good ones, noble ones, ridiculously high ones."

"Why would morals take on the shape of a football?"

She shrugged. "A square would just look too weird."

He chuckled. "Whatever you say." He paused, then said seriously, "Frankly, my dear Helga, I don't give a darn." Then he leaned forward and watched her closely.

She blinked at his intense stare a few times. "I'm sorry, was I supposed to respond to that? I'm not sure what you're looking for, there, Rhett."

He looked back down at his papers. "Never mind."

A ruckus down the isle made them both turn. Stinky and Sid made their way to the table, Sid taking three steps for Stinky's every one.

"Arnold," Sid demanded as soon as they reached him, "You're a man of good taste—what do you think of my new boots?"

"They're plum ridiculous, is what they are!" Stinky accused. "Arnold, tell Sid that they're the gaudiest pair of snake skins you've ever seen, because they are."

"Come on, Stinky," Sid said, "Red is the new white." He picked his foot up and rested it on the table's edge, showing off a pair of fire engine red cowboy boots. He pointed at them proudly. "Pulling. Them. Off."

They were hideous. Helga made a face at them, then shared a disbelieving look with Arnold.

"They're really something else," Arnold said.

"Very you, Sid," Helga agreed.

"Thank you!" Sid turned to his giant friend triumphantly. "See? What'd I tell you?"

"Don't be soft in the head, they're just bein' nice. It's plain as day they hate 'em!"

"You're just jealous because these boots are my ticket to winning all the ladies at the dance tomorrow night. For once, more girls will want to talk to me than you."

Stinky rolled his eyes. "Fer cryin' out loud, Sid! I'm tryin' to save you from yourself! No one has boots like those for a reason!"

"Yeah, which is why they're the perfect ice breaker!"

Helga stood and backed away from the arguing pair, not really caring to hear them squabble like girls. "I'm going to go find more books for my report."

"Now? You don't want to stay and help me settle this?" Arnold looked pointedly at her, like "please don't leave me with these idiots".

"Oh, I'm sure you can handle it. You are the fashion expert on red and blue, remember?"

Arnold slumped back in his chair with an exasperated sigh. Helga shook her head at the poor sucker and wandered over to another book isle.

She wasn't quite sure what she was doing there in the library. Her project was actually completely done, yet she'd bribed her way past the body guard to ask for Arnold's help. She was a glutton for punishment, it would seem. Every time she looked Arnold in the eye the last two days (which was rarely, because she hardly saw him, and when she did she usually avoided eye-contact) she could just tell that he was thinking, "You tried to kiss me, you weirdo. I can't believe you." Yet here she was, making up excuses to hang around him.

"Oh, bitter sweet love," She mumbled, absently glancing over the history books, "I'm unable to elude you. I tried to remove you once but it seems my affection only grew. But why, foolish heart, are you determined after one who cares for you naught? T'would seem I'm forever doomed to play the Lady of Shalott."

"That's pretty."

Helga spun and pressed herself against the bookshelf, knocking a few heavy books on her head. A tall girl with broad shoulders stood in the isle, pushing a library cart full of books. Helga stared, debating whether or not to kill herself or this girl first to relieve the embarrassment.

"Did you write that?" The girl asked. From behind her stepped Lila, who smiled at Helga pleasantly.

"I bet you did, didn't you, Helga?" Lila said, "It's ever so sweet."

Helga cleared her throat and straightened her shirt, trying to compose herself. "Uh, thanks."

"I wish I could write poetry," Lila turned to her friend, "Don't you, Patty?"

"I've never had the knack for it, I'm afraid."

Helga did a double take at the large girl. "_Big_ Patty?" Patty raised an eyebrow at her. Even though she had a floral patterned blouse and a flower in her hair, Helga was still weary of Patty's large, meaty fists. "Er, I mean, wow, Patty, long time no see! Good to, uh, see you. Here. In the library."

"Well I am the library teacher's assistant. I'm always here." Patty said, proving it by sliding a book onto the shelf, "You're a pretty decent poet, Helga. Was that about someone you like?"

"Uhh..."

Lila sighed dreamily, a hand to her freckled cheek. "There's something so romantic about unrequited love, don't you think? Or perhaps I'm just trying to romanticize it to make myself feel better."

Helga scoffed. "Right, like your love could be unrequited." It was insulting, really, that Lila thought she was in the same situation. There had been a time, a long time ago, that Lila had spurned Arnold's feelings, but surely she returned them now. How could she not? It was only a matter of time before Arnold and Lila, Mr. and Mrs. Perfect, announced their undying love and affection and ran away to happy fairy land to live happily ever after, leaving Helga to wallow away in self pity. And it wasn't all in Helga's head, either. The whole school thought they were already dating, and every time Helga turned a corner some stupid group of girls was cooing about how adorable it was that they got elected together because they're "totally in luv! Aw!" Which may have been another reason she was in the library today. Maybe she felt just a little bit possessive, now that she knew she loved him. Maybe she liked spending time with him, feeling like his friend, being invited to his house, and she was trying to take advantage of it while he was still a single man. Before a sweet girl like Lila snatched him away.

Lila herself, however, raised her eyebrows. "I'm afraid it is. In fact, I don't think he even knows I exist."

Ok, now she was just being a teenage soap opera. But Helga really didn't want to hear about Lila's Disney channel love life. She turned and sidled away, trying to make a subtle escape.

Lila continued anyway, "I suppose I can't blame him. He's always so busy, doing his job. I admire him so much, though; he's always so quiet and hard working." She sighed again. "I'm not surprised he doesn't notice me. Someone as kind and handsome as he is must have lots of girls. And why not? He's cute and tall—and I think his glasses make him look so intelligent."

Helga stopped. "Glasses?" She turned around. "Arnold doesn't wear glasses."

"Well, no, Arnold doesn't, but I wasn't talking about Arnold."

"You...you weren't talking about Arnold?"

Lila laughed. "No, of course not. Arnold and I are friends. He did like me, like me when we were kids, but I'm ever so sure that he only thinks of me as a sister, now."

Helga didn't know what to make of this. In her brain, it had been inevitable. Of course it was going to be Arnold and Lila. She, herself, had almost made certain of it, by helping him become president, and, subsequently, Lila become vice president. Weird. She didn't know if this new development was relieving, or more troubling, because then she thought Arnold must like some _other_ girl, someone Helga didn't know. Dark thoughts quickly went out into the cosmic universe towards a faceless girl who was the object of Arnold's desires.

Patty patted Lila. "Don't worry, Lila. He'll notice you some day."

Lila turned to the tall girl with concern. "I'm sorry, Patty, I was being insensitive. Your situation is much more sad than mine."

"What, you too?" Helga was starting to think that this unrequited love thing was an epidemic at this school. If girls like Lila couldn't get the guy, what hope was there for the rest of them?

Patty shrugged. "Childhood friends, I thought we were more than that, but then he started dating some rich girl. She was beautiful, I wasn't." She picked up a book from the cart and inspected it solemnly before putting it on the shelf. "There's not a whole lot I can do about that."

"Don't be like that, Patty!" Lila chided. "You're a beautiful, wonderful girl! It's just a shame he couldn't see that."

"Hmph." Helga shoved her hands in her pockets and kicked back against the shelf. "I dunno, I think you guys might have the better end of it. Having him not know you exist, or even dating someone else, seems better to me. At least it's definitive. Having him be all chummy and friendly and paying so much attention to you, only to know that he doesn't like you like that and that he treats all the other girls the same, pretty much sucks eggs."

"Is that your problem, Helga?" Patty asked.

She responded with a non-committal shrug.

"It seems we're all in the same boat," Lila said.

"Bummer." Helga said. "I wish I could just forget him. Life would be so much easier, right?"

Patty looked pensive but then shook her head. "I don't think I want to forget. It's true, sometimes it hurts, and sometimes I wish things were different...But you know what they say—better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

Lila nodded. "I agree. And even though he doesn't love me back, I don't regret loving him, even for a second, because I believe that he deserves it. I think he's a very nice boy. And it's even ok if he likes someone else—when he's happy, I'm happy. Sometimes that's all I need."

Helga didn't know if she wanted to hug these girls or slap them. They were on such a higher plane than she was. But, then, even as they spoke she felt she already knew what they were saying was right. She'd always hoped for Arnold to return her feelings, but that wasn't why she kept loving him. She loved him because he was a good man. And maybe that was all she needed, too. It was ok for her to love him, even if he didn't love her back. She didn't have to keep forcing herself out of it, like she was trying.

"You guys," Helga put a hand on each of their shoulders, a little choked up. "I like you guys."

Lila giggled and Patty simply said, "I like you, too, Helga," and slid another book on the shelf.

The bell rang, then, signaling the end of lunch and Lila gasped. "Oh, no!" She pulled a paper sack from her bag. "I was going to bring this to Arnold, but I got distracted talking to Patty. Now I'm afraid he won't have time to eat it."

Helga said emphatically, "Well, run along, Lila! The man's gotta eat!"

Lila gave her a sly look, before holding the bag out with a smile, "Why don't you take it to him, Helga?"

"Me?"

Patty gave her a sidelong look as well. "Yeah. Lila has to get to class. Why don't you do it?"

"He's had a long day," Lila said, "I'm ever so sure a hardy lunch would make him happy. And isn't his happiness yours?"

Helga looked back and forth between them before snatching the bag. "Tell anyone, and I'll kill you." They just smiled at her. Then she made her way back to the table where Arnold sat, his chin in his hand, still listening while his friends argued about foot wear.

* * *

The squeak of sneakers on the lacquered gym floor came to a quick halt when Beezus blew a sharp trill on his whistle. The Hedgehog basketball players gathered around their coach, sweaty and tired, while he gave them a quick rundown: "Sanders, that layup was pathetic. Next time you feel like being mediocre, get the ball to Johanssen instead. Harv, in the shotgun play, it's not working to go left, so I'm switching it. Go right, got it? Stinky, work on your footwork. Wolfgang and Arnold, the next time you girls feel like settling your differences, do it outside of my gym! I catch you pulling each other's pigtails in my territory again, you're both benched! _Capiche_? All right, Varsity, hit the showers. J.V., stick around." The Varsity team left the court and headed to the locker room, and the Junior Varsity hung around another ten minutes to hear Beezus' "inspiring" words about the game coming up the next week. Then they were dismissed, too, with some heavy threats sworn on the grave of Beezus' grandmother if they didn't get in shape in time to play the Lions.

Arnold took a quick shower, aware that he was supposed to be in the upper G-wing gym to help set up the dance for tomorrow. He dressed and pulling on his shoes by the time everyone else was getting out, wandering around in towels and boxers. Lenny was the last one left in the showers, soap still in his hair while he loudly sang "Miss Amanda Joooones!" and played air guitar.

Teri rubbed his shaved head with his towel before chucking it across the isle at Arnold. "What's your hurry, Troy? You got a musical audition or a hot date or something?"

Gerald wiggled his eyebrows while he sprayed himself down with cologne. "You bet he does."

There was a collective "oooh" from the teammates around the room. Arnold pulled the towel off and finished tying his shoes and said, "I'm supposed to help finish setting up for the dance and I'm late, is all."

"Man, that's boring," Teri complained, and some of the other guys lost interest and turned back to their lockers. "You're always running late or leavin' early for some president thing or dance thing. Do you ever take time for girls?"

"Trust me," Gerald said, "That's what he's doing." Arnold chucked the towel at him and it landed on his head.

"Oh, yeah?" Teri said, "Got a secret crush?" Arnold chose not to answer and Teri started saying "oooh" again before one of the other guys came from the showers and distracted him by trying to put him in a headlock.

"Speaking of, man," Gerald said to Arnold, a little more discreetly, "Now would be one of those perfect opportunities we were talking about yesterday."

"What? Today?"

"Yeah, today. You'll be with her for hours, right?"

"But there'll be people around..."

"So? You can totally find time. It's easy."

"Oh, it's easy, huh? Like you know."

"Of course. Who's the one with a girlfriend?"

"If you think you know so much, Casanova, why don't you come with and give me some pointers?"

Gerald shut his locker, adjusting the jacket he'd just put on. "Yeah, all right. I'll come with you and—wait. Aw. Never mind, I'm not coming."

"Too late, you already agreed."

"Nut-uh, man, you just want me to come to help you decorate and stuff. I am not doing that."

"Many hands make light work, Gerald."

Moze came around the corner then, fully dressed and with his backpack over his shoulder. "You ready, Arnold?"

"Yeah," Arnold replied, dragging Gerald along behind him. "Gerald volunteered to come help."

"Nice, man. Let's go," Moze said and led the way out of the locker room, past Lenny, who was just then getting out of the shower.

The three boys wandered through the empty halls of their school, up to the second floor where the G-wing gym was. The G-wing gym was old, with cobblestone walls that had been smoothed over time, and a tall balcony with iron banisters. The court was smaller than was standard, so it was generally only used by the girls' P.E. classes, and usually for the J.V. team to practice in while Varsity had the new gym. Beezus had been pretty irate when J.V. wasn't aloud there today due to dance-prep, but Rhonda had ignored all the complaining and simply said it was the only remotely adequate room for the dance.

When they got there, the gym was well on its way towards Rhonda's vision. Black plastic covered most of the walls, blocking the windows and reflecting back dim lighting from the overhead lights. Spider webs were strung across the rafters and a skeleton was hung from a basketball hoop by a noose. Plywood walls were being erected on the balcony level in preparation for the miniature scale haunted house, and a small graveyard was being set up in one corner of the court, with a full size coffin that kids could crawl into for pictures. The dozen kids from the dance committee were running around, arms full of decorations, and their numbers were added to by kids from wood shop, setting up the haunted house and DJ'S stage, and techies from the drama club, working on lighting and surround sound.

The three boys stood in the doorway for a bit, not sure where to go, but it wasn't long before Rhonda spotted them, shoved boxes full of various Halloween-like things into their arms, and set them to work. The busy work went on for a couple hours, the sounds of hammering and shouting and the occasional "_Frak_!" when something went wrong echoing around the gym. Arnold, who was on the decorations committee, quickly became one of the go-to people, giving directions for this ghoul standee or that stuffed black cat, and eventually he ended up on the balcony, overseeing the haunted house that he had originally designed. He was painting a big "Enter at Own Risk" sign beside Moze, who was hanging a string of black lights to the outside of the house. Gerald was just inside the house, hanging glowing hockey masks from the fake ceiling.

"These are all some pretty extensive decorations," Moze said to Arnold. "I thought we were just going to put up some orange balloons and call it good."

"Rhonda said she wanted it big," Arnold replied, "I was content with strobe lights and hanging some dementors, but some of the other kids in my group really got into it."

To punctuate this statement, Phil, a fifteen-year-old with three wristwatches and a mug of coffee, walked by, "All right, clock's a-ticking, people, so let's move a little faster! Arnold, you call that a ghost? Repaint it. Heaven forbid Rhonda sees _that_."

"Yikes." Moze said as Phil wandered away to nag some other people. "Well, at the very least, the gym will look pretty awesome for the dance. I'm excited to go."

"No kidding," Gerald said, his voice muffled by the fake glass windows, "Me and my lady are gonna have a sweet time. If we ever get done, that is. We've been here for hours."

"It's coming along; I'm sure we'll be done soon," Moze said and plugged in the black lights. They glowed down on his white shirt and made his teeth shine. He stepped back to admire the house. "Can't wait to go through this with Helga tomorrow."

Then Arnold "accidentally" dripped some paint on Moze's shoe; "Oh, sorry." Gerald rolled his eyes and Moze stepped back to try to wipe it off. "So, uh, you're going with Helga Pataki, right?" Arnold asked casually, not looking at him.

"Yeah, I am."

"Do you like her?"

Through the window Gerald made a brief slash across his throat at Arnold's bluntness, but Arnold ignored him.

Moze chuckled at the younger boy's curiosity. "We're good friends."

Arnold nodded. "So you're just friends. You don't think of her like that."

"Well, I didn't say that."

Arnold turned to him, but Nadine came by then and asked if she could borrow Moze's height. Moze followed her away and Gerald came out of the house.

"Smooth, Romeo." He said dryly, leaning against the door frame.

"What do you think that meant, Gerald?" Arnold said, a little anxious. "That he did like her like her? Or that he might have thought of her that way before but didn't really like her liker her? Or that he just thought that it was possible that someone might like her like her, but he doesn't necessarily?"

"Dude, I have no idea how deep his level of 'like' goes, ok? But don't panic just yet; I thought we established that Helga likes you, anyway."

"Well, I think so. But it's possible she might like him, too."

Gerald thought about this. "Could be, I guess. Helga could just be one of those girls who likes to kiss around..."

"Not helping."

"I'm kidding. Arnold, come on. If you're so antsy about it, _do_ something. Helga's down on the first floor, yellin' at people. Go talk to her. Lay on some moves."

"Lay on some moves?"

"Yeah, you know," He slung an arm around his shoulder. "Go compliment her, be a gentleman. Sidle up real close like this and give her the _sizzley_ eyes." Gerald demonstrated this to Arnold, looking at him intensely. "She'll be pouring out her heart in no time."

Arnold looked skeptical.

"Trust me. Who's the one with the girlfriend?"

"You wouldn't have that girlfriend if I hadn't helped you get her."

"So now I'm repaying the favor." He shoved Arnold forward. "I'll finish up for you here. And don't come back 'til you've kissed a girl, Barnaby."

* * *

Helga knelt over large, black card-stock cutouts of creepy men with axes and dark hoods. When she was finished cutting them out she was going to put them in dark corners of the bathrooms. They weren't actually a part of the official decorations plan, but they would probably scare the crap out of some dumb girl when she saw their reflection in the mirror, so Helga was doing it anyway. Hettie, Curly's cute redhead girlfriend, knelt close by, helping.

Helga was getting sick of having to boss around all these idiots. Seriously, putting a lantern on a pole and setting them at intervals down the hall was not that hard to do, yet she'd had to make the kids doing it re-do them twice. And she was so fed up with the kids who were doing the orange and black banners that every time one of them came over to her, she just ignored them completely. Plus, all these kids were klutzes. She didn't know how or who, but somehow wherever she went something tried to kill her. There was a big bruise on one arm from an Igor manikin falling on her, a cut on her leg from fake barbed wire getting caught around her leg and tripping her, and the end of her hair still smelt singed from when it had nearly caught on fire by some welder's torches. She was beginning to think she'd accidentally walked on some Indian burial ground or crossed paths with an angry black cat.

Rhonda walked by with Ashlee and Nadine, and Moze and Harold behind them, carrying a ladder.

"Helga, fabulous job," Rhonda said as she passed, checking something on her clipboard, "When you're done, help Jake and Selena with the banners—the fools can't get them to hang straight."

Helga growled and jabbed her scissors into the heart of her cutout.

"You and me both, girl," Rhonda nodded and moved on.

"Take it easy, Pataki. What'd that guy ever do to you?" Harold asked.

Moze said chummily, "Remind me not to tick you off when you've got scissors around."

"So long as you don't make me hang any banners, Captain," She responded, "You'll be safe."

He chuckled. "I'll remember that," He said and the two boys went after their leader.

"He was an attractive specimen," Hettie said, "Is that your boy?"

"Heh, no. He's a friend."

"Oh. Shame. Is that your boy, then?"

Helga looked over her shoulder to see Arnold crossing the court towards her. Why, yes. That was her boy, actually.

"Hey," He said when he reached them.

"Hey, Arnold."

He crouched beside her and eyed the scissors sticking out of her cutout. "What are you working on?"

She pulled the scissors out. "I thought the bathrooms could use a little sprucing up."

Hettie spoke up in a matter-of-fact way, "It's common for demons to frequent restroom areas. It's easy for them to crawl up through the plumbing and it's far more convenient a place when cleaning up the blood and intestines once they've had their way with you."

Arnold simply said, "Oh," and Helga just looked at her. After spending over an hour with Hettie, Helga was beginning to understand how she was dating Curly.

"Can I help?" Arnold asked.

Helga shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat."

He fetched a pair of scissors from a supply box nearby and buckled down to help them. Helga was happy he was there. She hadn't seen him since they'd parted ways at lunch earlier in the day, but she felt somewhat at ease. It was still a little tense, of course, and she refused to think about his room at all, but she wasn't as afflicted by confusion anymore. Talking with Lila and Patty had helped her clear up some things. Before, she'd had a constant inner battle of emotions, half of her being in love, the other half trying to talk herself out of it because she felt stupid. But it was ok to be in love. There was nothing wrong with that.

As a result of this thinking, the stress that usually caused her to lash out unreasonably at him was lessened, and she didn't think it was too weird to be nice, either.

"Your haunted house up there is lookin' good," She said.

"It's coming along. Although I'm starting to think we've bitten off more than we can chew with these decorations."

"You're only _now_ starting to think that?"

He shrugged. "It's not too unusual. You should have seen the back to school dance a couple months ago. The theme was 'Disneyland' and we had a to-scale miniature of the Matterhorn spewing soda."

"Where do you guys get the budget for stuff like that?"

"It was homemade."

"Of course it was. Some of the people at this school are even more annoyingly creative and driven than you are."

"Hey," He pointed his scissors at her. "No one is more annoyingly creative and driven than I am." She chuckled and he smiled. Suddenly, he lunged across the cutout and grabbed her arm, holding it up. "Be careful!" He said to Hettie, who's scissors had come dangerously close to Helga's fingers.

Hettie looked at him with wide eyes. "I apologize. I was simply so focused on the rhythm of cutting that I wasn't paying attention. There's something so soothing about using a sharp object to sever something, isn't there?"

"Uh, sure." Arnold said.

Helga just flexed her fingers, glad to still have them. Using the arm he was still holding, Arnold pulled Helga to a stand. The cutouts were done, so the three of them gathered them up and headed out into the hall. The hall was also being decorated, and at one end Moze stood on a tall ladder, fastening a creepy "Welcome" sign to the ceiling with Harold. They walked underneath his ladder, and he called, "That's ten years bad luck, Pataki!"

She replied over her shoulder, "I'll add it to my list!"

They did the boys' bathroom first, putting a cutout in the back corner, behind the door, and one in a stall. They left Hettie to duct tape the last one up and moved on to the girls' bathroom. Helga had saved the creepiest cutouts for the girls' bathroom, because girls were way more fun to scare. They set one up in the farthest corner, and Helga tested it, standing in front of the sink mirror to make sure it would be reflected just over your shoulder.

"Perfect," Helga said, "I wish it wasn't so bright and peppy in here, though. We need a little bit more 'Pit of Despair' going on."

"Wait a sec," Arnold said. He grabbed the waist-high garbage can and dragged it underneath the nearest fluorescent lights. "Hold onto this."

"Uh, 'k." She held it steady, only to be surprised when Arnold climbed on top of it, balancing with one foot on either side of the rim. She held it even more steady out of worry, looking up at him like he was crazy. "Are you kidding, get down! You're gonna fall and crack your head open and I'm gonna have no idea how to save you so you're going to bleed to death and die!"

"Thanks for the comfort," He said, bracing himself with one hand on the ceiling. He popped open the rectangular light cover and unscrewed one of the fluorescent tubes, cutting the light in the room in half. He messed with the other tube, unscrewing it a little and setting it off center so the circuit wasn't complete, and it flickered ominously. "How's that?"

"Yes, fabulous, now come down."

Hettie came in then, carrying a chair.

"Look, Hettie's brought a chair!" Helga said. "So come down, you can use that instead."

"It's ok, I'm done." But just as he was popping the cover back on the light, the fire sprinklers went off.

"What the heck?" Helga blinked in the faux rain and looked at Hettie, who was calmly climbing down from the chair, blowing out the little flame on her lighter. "Hettie, what the crap?" Hettie looked at her coolly and shrugged before walking out of the bathroom. "Little freak..." Helga helped Arnold jump down, holding him steady so he didn't slip on the wet floor, and they both went to the door. They pushed on it, but it didn't swing open.

"Uh-oh..." Arnold said, water dripping down his face as he pushed against the door with his shoulder.

"Are you _kidding_ me? We're locked in _again_?"

He gave the door a last good shove before saying bluntly, "Yep."

Helga shouted through the door, "Seriously, Hettie? The same thing your boyfriend did? How about a little originality! Is that too much to ask?"

"Well at least it's only water this time," Arnold said. "And the sprinklers will set the fire alarm off, so someone will come get us soon." As soon as this sentence finished, they heard a distant ringing from the hall beyond them. "See?"

"Whoopee." Helga kicked the chair Hettie had left. "Aw, man, and our cutout creepers are getting ruined! Hettie, you freakin' little twerp..."

Arnold sat in front of the door, leaning back against it. He grabbed her hand and yanked her down beside him.

"What's the big idea?" She demanded.

"It'll be a while before they figure out what set the alarm off. Might as well get comfortable."

She groaned and leaned back, angrily pushing wet hair off her face. "You know, I think she's been trying to kill me all day. Weird things have been falling on me, or tripping me, that shouldn't be able to move by themselves. Then the scissors, and now this. What the heck did we ever do to her?"

"Besides destroy her boyfriend's campaign and humiliating him in front of the whole school?"

"You think that's why she's doing this?"

"Probably. Look on the bright side: at least this time we don't have anywhere to be."

She groaned again. They sat for a while, watching water pool between the tile cracks and soak through paper towels that had fallen to the floor, while the fluorescent light flickered overhead. In the hallway behind them, the fire alarm stopped whining. Helga sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, careful not to touch the boy next to her. But it was different being locked up with him this time, because she didn't have the intense desire to run away or die on the spot. She reminded herself that it was ok to be in love and she tried, very slowly, to ease up and casually bump shoulders with him. She'd just barely made contact when he suddenly turned to her and she stiffened up again.

"Are you looking forward to the dance tomorrow?" He asked.

"Oh, uh...Sure, I guess. And I'm really looking forward to not being on this dumb committee anymore."

"Are you? I'm not."

"Pfft, yes you are. You're going crazy with basketball and being president and detention and school. You'll be glad when you don't have to worry about this stuff."

"True, it will be easier to handle my life. But it's been kind of fun, don't you think?"

"If by 'fun' you mean grueling and heinous, then, yeah."

"Whatever, I know you got a kick out of putting up all those creepy decorations in the gym. You even went the extra mile and put some up in here, too. And you love bossing people around."

She smiled. "Yeah, all right. That is kind of fun. Halloween is the best time of year. You get to scare little kids and you get free stuff. What's not to love?"

He smiled back. "Right. But I mean, won't you miss not spending time with some of the people on this committee?" He reached up and tucked a wet strand of her hair behind her ear. "I will."

Her cheek burned where he had touched her, and he was looking at her funny. Like, really intensely. And it didn't help that the flickering light was casting deep shadows on his face, bringing out the bright of his eyes. She realized she should probably respond, and said lamely, "I dunno, I might, maybe..."

"Oh? Who?"

She was vaguely aware of his hand resting gently on her own. The cool water falling on her skin didn't feel cold anymore. She was terrified of answering, because she knew if she did, she would tell the truth.

_What's wrong with the truth?_ She thought. _It's ok that you love him. Maybe it's ok that he knows you'd miss him. Besides, you're supposed to be friends, right? So where's the harm in missing him?_

She said hesitatingly, "I might...miss you..." She watched his face closely for a reaction, and she thought she saw the smallest upturn of a smile, but she couldn't be sure, because just then they both fell backwards.

They looked up from the hallway floor at Nadine, who held the door open and looked at them, just as surprised as they were. "What were you guys doing in there?"

Arnold grumbled to himself, "Not again," but Helga shot up like a bullet, her cheeks pink, and said rapidly, "We were using the porcelain, ya know, the usual, no biggy, just hangin' out, me and Arnold, in the girls' bathroom...We were locked in."

Nadine just looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Oh. There's no fire?"

"Nope, not even a spark. Not at all. Yep, so, anyway, better head back to the gym. You should probably get someone to turn off those sprinklers." Then she passed Nadine, leaving a little trail of water behind her.

Nadine looked at Arnold, confused, but he simply said, "You couldn't have waited five minutes?"

"Uh...Sorry?"

Nadine quickly fetched the janitor to handle the sprinklers and then followed Arnold and Helga back to the gym. They walked onto the court, where a couple kids were standing around, wondering if there really was a fire in the building. Almost as soon as they got there a very loud crash from the balcony and a scream from Rhonda made everyone hurry towards the stairs. Arnold, Helga, and Nadine reached the balcony, where Nadine broke away and rushed over to Rhonda, who was being fanned by Ashlee and Harold. She stood directly opposite the mini haunted house that now lay collapsed in a pile of plywood. The wood shop kids who had been working on it stood around the edges, pulling at their hair.

Gerald and Moze stood close to the stair entrance. Gerald called to them, "What happened to you guys?"

"You're soaking wet," Moze added, looking them both up and down.

"We're fine," Arnold said, "What happened to the house? Did anyone get hurt?"

"No, everyone was out of it," Gerald answered. "As far as we can tell, it just collapsed."

"That doesn't make sense. The design was completely sound, it shouldn't have just fallen over..."

As they watched, Hettie stepped from behind the pile of plywood. "I found the problem!" She announced to the surrounding students. "The support beams weren't properly nailed down. Well, at least we know who to blame—Arnold insisted on doing the support beams."

Rhonda gasped and rounded on Arnold, and shouted, "_You_!"

Arnold shook his head, "They were perfectly sturdy when I checked them!"

Hettie stepped over the plywood as Rhonda began ranting, mostly to herself, about how this was a complete disaster and how they would never get finished in time and no one would even bother coming to the dance, anyway. She broke down a little bit at the end and cried, shrugging off her friends when they tried to comfort her. Hettie just walked straight toward the stairs, pausing in front of a wet Arnold and Helga. She put out her hand and dropped a handful of nails at their feet. "That was for my darling Thaddeus." Then she went down the stairs and left the gym.

"She," Helga said, "Is almost as psychopathic as her boyfriend. They deserve each other."

"Let's never be left alone with either of them again," Arnold said.

"Agreed."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	9. Off With His Head

A/N: I love the responses from you guys! You're all so awesome! Seriously. The bees knees. The joints on the legs of honey-making insects. That's what you are.

Craig Bartlett owns Hey Arnold!

Chapter 9: Off With His Head

Barf. That's what Helga wanted to do. Barf in a box, put that box inside a bigger box, and mail it to her sister, because right now she was being soooo annoying.

Olga was on the phone, going on and on about how her baby sister was going on a date, and how Helga should be coy but not too coy, sweet but not too sweet, and how she shouldn't worry about a big engagement ring because it really _was_ possible to live on love! Helga assured her she would never settle for anything less than a 24 carat diamond, and then held the receiver away from her ear, only pretending to listen with the occasional, "Uh-huh."

Miriam had called Olga earlier that week and told her all about Helga's date, gushing about how adorable Moze was. Big Bob, thank goodness, didn't really care about the situation. He'd laughed his head off when Helga had first told him, then become confused, then thought it was just a waist of time, and then, hearing that it was Carlos Moze, ex-captain of the Eagles, was suddenly ok with it. He'd said, "Have fun, and all that," forked over some money for her costume, and then had proceeded to forget all about it.

"Oh, Helga, romance is such a magical thing!" Olga said in her breathy voice. "I get all fluttery just thinking about how happy you'll be! Oh, my baby sister, you're so old..." She sniffed.

"And just think how much older you are, Olga. Gray hair is only days away." Helga said, flipping a page of the magazine she had open in front of her.

"Helga, you simply must send me pictures! Oh, I bet you'll look so beautiful!"

"Uh-huh. It's the fake blood, really. Can't keep the boys away from it."

Olga gasped. "You know what we simply must do? We must go on a double date!"

Helga gagged. "What?"

"Yes, the next time Danny and I come to visit, we must take time to go out all together! Ooh, wouldn't that be lovely? And perhaps mummy and daddy would like to come as well!"

Helga could see it now: stuck in a stuffy restaurant with Moze, Olga and Danny, and her parents. It would be a lovely time, with polite chatter filling the air, and halfway through the second course Helga would excuse herself to the lou, where she would promptly drown herself. "Sounds fun, sis."

Olga squealed. "Danny, what do you think? Wouldn't it be lovely to go on a double date with Helga and her little gentleman friend?"

From further away, Helga heard Danny answer, "That sounds delightful, sunflower."

Helga rolled her eyes at her sister and brother-in-law. Oh, they could gush all they wanted, but, in reality, they probably wouldn't even remember this conversation the next time they visited Hillwood.

Olga said, "What's that, Jr.? You want to talk wif your Auntie? Helga, Jr. would like to talk to you, wouldn't you, sweetie?" Then the two-year-old was put on the line, and Olga tried to encourage him to say something.

Helga said absently to her nephew, "Hey, kiddo, what's happening? You getting a handle on that whole potty-training thing yet? Yes, no? How about that whole walking thing? You stop falling down yet?"

The other line was quiet, and Olga said gentle, "Say hi! Go on!" Finally, Danny Jr. said very shyly, "Hi..."

Helga smiled. "Hi, kid."

Olga got back on the phone then. "Now he's embarrassed. Isn't he the sweetest? You just wuv your Antie Helga, don't you? Helga, he did the cutest thing the other day, you should have seen!"

Helga listened to about the first five seconds of the story before standing up and tossing the phone towards her mother, who was chopping strawberries at the counter. "Here, Miriam."

Miriam took the phone and listened to the rest of the story, and by the time Helga reached her room, she heard Miriam gasp, "Oh, how adorable!" Helga didn't feel bad about missing out. She knew her nephew was pretty great as far as people who still poop in diapers went, but she didn't care to hear Olga reiterate one of those stories that was only cute to the parents (and, vicariously, grandparents) of the kid. She'd already spent the first twenty minutes of her conversation with Olga hearing about the pre-preschool program Olga was implementing with Jr., which was a student led curriculum that would introduce him to classical musicians and teach him to read before all the other kids, and blah, blah, blah. Everyone else in the family already thought he was some kind of prodigee, so apparently he had to be raised with weird hippie ideals. Helga didn't get why Jr. couldn't just be a kid and learn to read when he was supposed to, but whatever. It wasn't her kid.

It was three forty five in the afternoon on Saturday, and Helga thought she might start switching gears from lazing around watching TV, to getting ready for the dance. Moze was supposed to pick her up at six so they could have plenty of time to pick up everyone else, grab some grub, and drive across town to the dance.

She wandered over to her closet, debating weather or not she cared enough to curl her hair. It was her first date, so she wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do. Fix her cuticles? Wax her legs? Bathe in yummy smelling oils? It was only Moze, and she doubted he cared if she Barbied herself, but she didn't want to embarrass him by looking dumb, either. Besides, Arnold would be there. Perhaps she'd have to ask for Miriam's help. Miriam would probably be ecstatic, and all Helga would have to do would be to make sure her mom didn't get distracted and accidentally burn off her hair with the curling iron.

Helga glanced down at the small shrine at the bottom of her closet. The little football headed statue sat collecting dust and she smiled at it fondly before leafing through her clothes for her costume. It was a blue dress that fell to her knees, with white lace poking out the bottom and a little white apron. Moze had had the idea to go as Alice and the White Rabbit, which Helga had thought was cliché, so she had only agreed so long as she could be un-dead Alice who had escaped from an insane asylum. Moze had given her a weird look but told her she could be whatever she wanted. So Helga had taken scissors to the skirt, tearing it up and making it look raggedy, and she'd added fake, bloodied hand prints to the apron. It looked pretty boss, if she did say so herself.

As she pulled the dress out of the closet, a box on the shelf above it caught her eye. The side read, "Helga's journals—KEEP OUT". Helga glanced at the clock; yeah, she had time. She draped the dress over her desk chair and pulled the box from the shelf. It was heavier than she remembered, and she dropped it with a _thud_ in the middle of the carpet. She blew some dust off the lid before popping it open and looking in at the neatly stacked books. Sitting next to the box she pulled some of the journals out, fingering the well worn covers. She hadn't looked at these in years, nor had she added to their numbers. She'd put them away at thirteen, deciding she was (supposedly) over Arnold, and she hadn't opened them since. They had been so full of hope and love that she couldn't handle looking at them. She didn't think about what she was doing now, she had simply pulled the box down on a whim, but for some reason the little journals didn't bother her anymore. She just looked at them in remembrance and laughed at the ridiculous poetry within. She searched through the box and found the oldest book and flipped through the pages.

"Oh, _man,_" She groaned at her nine-year-old self and read aloud:

"Arnold, you idiot,  
I've always sworn it  
I've always loved you  
My darling, my darling.  
Kiss me, my darling,  
Oh so shamed, my Prometheus,  
Wandering the dismal deserts of my tormented soul."

And that was one of the better ones. Wow. Most of them were terrible. Some were decent, but most were terrible. These weren't all of the journals, either—years ago her mother had thrown out volumes one through fourteen, and now she was kind of grateful. She was pretty sure the poetry from her early elementary years would be horrific. The oldest journal still in existence was the little pink one on Arnold's shelf, and she really hoped that he would never again open it because he'd probably die from laughter.

She put the book aside, rifling through a few more. The more recent they were, the more the entries began changing. If they had been pathetic and pining before, they only got worse, because then she found the journals she wrote just after she had moved away. For example, one read:

The salt of the earth has become tasteless

The heavenly stars have lost their shine

These graffiti strewn streets are colorless

Without that sweet football head of mine.

Then all of a sudden there was one entry that wasn't even prose. The handwriting was sloppier than the careful curly-cues that had come before, and nearly illegible. There was no date at the top of the page, but Helga remembered exactly when she had written it—it was the last day she had seen Arnold. A heavy feeling seeped off the page and into the room as she read: _True love only happens once in a lifetime, and when it's over, all you're left with is a bunch of shredded heart bits on the floor. My true love has moved on. I can't really blame him; I wasn't his true love. I guess that's fine, because at least he won't feel sad when he never sees me again. All that's left for me to do now is move on. I used to think life wasn't worth living without him, but maybe it is, and maybe I can. Eventually I will forget him, and then my stupid heart will stop aching so much. I'm never doing this again. Love is not worth it._

Sheesh. You'd think she was a moody teen in love with a vampire, or something. Well, she was a moody teen, but at least Arnold wasn't after her life blood. It was a little alarming to remember just how devastated she had been over a boy at the age of thirteen, but she'd never claimed that she _wasn't_ a drama queen. She closed the book and lay on the ground with her diaries around her, thinking back over the last few years.

She had done a decent job of moving on, she thought—in her day to day life she had stopped seeing his face in the clouds and his football head in the ripples on water. But she'd also lied to herself for a long time. She had thought that his absence in the random shapes of the world around her meant that she was over him, so she had allowed herself the guilty pleasure of asking about him whenever she talked to Phoebe, or listening to his band over and over. She'd told herself that there was no harm in knowing what a childhood friend was up to, and it wasn't like she'd ever see him again, so it didn't matter. Thinking about it now, she realized that rather than getting over him, her love had just changed. It had grown up. He hadn't been constantly in her thoughts, and her obsession had ebbed, but he had still been a big factor in her life. Subconsciously she had developed an attitude of "What would Arnold do?" and because of it she had found herself softening. The hard shell she wore as a neglected child turned into that of a world-worn, but nevertheless strong young woman. At least that's how she liked to think of herself. She had remembered him fondly and gratefully, and maybe her love had grown because of that. When she had seen him again, those buried feelings had simply been brought to the surface, and maybe it was the intensity of those feelings that had freaked her out and made her turn and, both physically and emotionally, run the other way.

Running was obviously no longer an option, but, frankly, she was beginning to be ok with that. Being in love was ok. Millions of people were in love every day, even unrequited love, and no one (save a few overly dramatic fictional characters) had died from it yet. Most likely, Helga would survive. Arnold would live his life, and Helga would silently support and love him. She would be his friend, and she would never tell him that she loved him. Or she would. Or wouldn't. It didn't matter—either way, it was ok.

She stood from her pile of books on the floor and wandered over to her desk, fishing around in the drawer for a pen. When she pulled one out, stuck to the cap of it was a small pink bracelet with "I Heart Arnold" on it. She smiled at it and put it on before lying on her stomach on the carpet and opening a journal. She flipped to the very last entry, the one about broken hearts and love sucking. On the page just opposite it she wrote the current date and beneath it a simple haiku:

Love is not to take

But to give; do you hear it?

Music fills my heart

She rested her chin on the book, balancing the pen between her upper lip and nose. The October sun filtered through the window and landed on her back, warming her all through. Her eyes closed momentarily and her reserves melted away in the sunlight. For the first time in a long time she didn't feel confused or nervous—she couldn't wait to see Arnold.

* * *

Arnold sat behind the food table in the G-wing gym, mechanically filling and refilling cups with punch. Ashlee sat in a chair a couple feet away in a Charlie's Angel costume, while Jason, her nerdy stalker with headgear, tried to chat her up dressed as Zorro. Music echoed in the room around them, while different colored lights flashed. The DJ stood on the stage, dressed as Batman, and every time he announced the next song he did it in the lowest, most gravely voice he could manage. Groups of students in strange outfits walked by, usually laughing, and masses of kids were on the dance floor, all bouncing up and down to the beat. Every once in a while some would break from the crowd and head over to the food tables to chow down on pumpkin pasties, brain shaped jell-o, punch with dry ice, and various other festive foods.

Arnold was glad that he finally had something to do. He'd been there since four thirty, the dance didn't start until seven, and no one had shown up until nine. He'd been sitting around, drumming his fingers, bored out of his mind, and he couldn't even express how happy he was when the first couples started coming in. It was even better that it was a Halloween dance, because then, at least, he was having fun looking at all the costumes. He could see Sid and Stinky across the hall with a couple girls. Sid was in his red boots and was dressed like Danny Zuko mixed with Ren MacCormack, and Stinky was a pale vampire in a button down shirt. When the light hit him he sparkled. There a handful of girls with them that were all trying to get Stinky's attention, while Sid tried to flirt with anyone who looked at him twice. There were a million different costumes—Wolfgang had come in dressed like Bane and was now trying to mess with the DJ and cause a fight; Torvald had come as himself; Eugene was Ronald Weasley; a junior couple was Mr. and Mrs. Pacman; Big Gino and his girlfriend, Katrinka, were James Bond and Moneypenny; some senior was Morpheus; a small group of zombies shuffled back and forth moaning; Nadine was dancing with Peapod, dressed as Thumbelina and the Beetle; three freshmen were a Chinese dragon; the Joker and Harley were bouncing around causing trouble; and there were about a dozen Disney princesses wandering around. The Halloween world was pretty well represented by the student body, Arnold thought, and it seemed like everyone was enjoying themselves, much to Rhonda's delight.

Rhonda herself fluttered back and forth across the gym, welcoming people and making sure that the activities were to everyone's liking. Arnold was pretty impressed that she got around so fast, since she was in a seventeenth century lacy hoop skirt and a tall, black wig. Harold followed around behind her in his high collar and ascot, eating spider shaped cookies. The couple swept past the food table every now and again, Rhonda waving her fan at them and asking if everything was going ok. Ashlee would just file her nails and ignore her, so Arnold would tell Rhonda they were fine and give Harold another cookie.

Gerald and Phoebe arrived and wandered over a little after nine, dressed like Han and Leia, with their arms around each other and laughing loudly.

"Hey, guys, how's your night so far?" Arnold asked.

Gerald cleared his throat and said in his best Harrison Ford impersonation, "Uh, everything's under control here. Situation normal."

"...Ok. Where'd you guys go for dinner?"

"Uh, we had a slight weapons malfunction, but uh... everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?"

Phoebe put a hand over her mouth to muffle her voice. "We're sending a squad up."

"Uh, negative, negative! We had a reactor leak here now. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak, very dangerous."

They continued quoting, and ended with some high pitched gun noises and laughter. Arnold watched them reenact the scene with a sardonic expression before saying, "Glad you're enjoying yourselves."

Gerald took two punch cups and handed one to Phoebe. "I have to tell you, this dance is off the wall."

"It's true," Phoebe agreed, "I have to say it's the most well put together dance I've been to at this school. Who made the Roman Gothic chandeliers that they've hung over the tables upstairs?"

"Those were Rhonda," Arnold said, "We did most of the big stuff, but all the minute details she did on her own."

"She certainly has an eye for it."

"I'll say," Gerald said. "When we went home last night I thought it looked pretty good, but it's _way_ better today. I mean, the jack-o-lanterns in the front hall legitimately look like they're floating. And everyone here looks awesome, though not as awesome as _we_ do, am I right, your Worshipfulness? But still pretty awesome. Except R.J. Have you seen him? He's supposed to be Sherlock Holmes or something. Pfft. I think it was just the most pretentious costume he could come up with. I still think you should have come as Luke, Arnold."

"As if I'm not enough of a third wheel already."

"I like what you're wearing, though." Phoebe said.

"Yeah?" Arnold looked down at himself. "It was kind of last minute." It was actually very last minute. He was wearing a red vest, an argyle green scarf, his grandfather's long black trench coat and pocket watch, and an old top hat. If it had been left up to him he would have come as a muggle, or something, since he hadn't really put together a costume. His grandmother, however, had different plans. She'd put on a big red dress and crown, dressed Iva in a little purple cat costume, and had chased Ernie around, trying to put a pair of bunny ears on him. She'd caught Arnold just before he'd gone out the door and stuck the costume and top hat on him, saying, "How's a raven like a writing desk? Do tell, Hatter, or off with your head!"

"You're a bold guy, Arnold," Gerald said, "Way to stake your claim."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't you dress like that because Helga's Alice and Moze is the White Rabbit?"

"They _what_? How do you know? Are they here?" He'd been watching for them, but he hadn't seen them come in.

Phoebe said, "They came in about twenty minutes ago. We passed them talking to some of Moze's senior friends on our way over here."

"This," Gerald said proudly, pulling on Arnold's lapel. "Is exactly what I'm talking about. To me, this says, 'Back off, man! Dat's _my_ girl!'"

"You do look very nice," Phoebe agreed, munching on a pumpkin pasty.

"You don't seem happy about this," Gerald said, looking at his friend, "What's the problem?"

"I didn't do this on purpose. I didn't even know what they were coming as. Dang, now it might be awkward...I don't want to embarrass them. What should I do, change?"

Gerald rolled his eyes, "Don't chicken out now! Don't worry, it'll only be awkward for you."

"Great."

"Come on, take advantage of the situation—lay some ground work, since you completely failed to yesterday."

"Hey, I didn't completely fail. But what am I supposed to do while she's on a date? They'll both think I'm a jerk if I come on to her. No, I just want her to have a good time tonight. I'll worry about 'laying groundwork' later."

"Mm-mm-mm!" Gerald shook his head. "All right, man. But just so you know, that's exactly the kind of attitude that _won't_ get you a girl. If you really want a girl, you have to try to get her all the time, not just when it's convenient."

"He might be right, Arnold," Phoebe said. "One night is all it takes for a boy to sweep a girl off her feet. What would you do if that night was tonight?"

Arnold watched her pensively and she just smiled back with a twinkle in her eye.

"Better make your decision quick," Gerald said pointing, "They're headed this way."

Arnold turned. Moze's tall figure led the way through the crowd in a burgundy suit with coattails, the upper half of his face covered by a white mask with long ears sticking straight up. The lofty heights of Teri and Lenny followed, and as they came closer the two smaller blond girls became visible. Arnold's gaze slid immediately toward the girl walking beside the White Rabbit. She was in a raggedy blue dress and apron with fake blood splattered on it, and black boots. Her hair was curled, pushed back by a black headband, and separated into two pigtails that fell over her shoulders. Dark eyeshadow around her eyes gave them a sunken-in look and she must have been in a good mood because she was carrying herself tall and proud. Dang it. She wasn't supposed to be in a good mood with Moze, she was supposed to be miserable.

Lenny, as Luigi, reached the table first, quickly grabbing a plate and loading it up with sweets. "What's up, bro?" He said to Arnold as he passed. "Gerald, Phoebe." He tipped his green hat to them, crumbs already stuck in his false mustache.

The other four reached the table a minute later. Teri and Agatha were in matching Asian robes, Teri in white, Agatha in black. When Gerald asked what they were supposed to be, Teri said, "To every Yin there's his Yang."

"Nice buns, Phebes," Helga said.

"Thanks. I like your hair, too." Phoebe replied.

"Yeah? It turned out ok. Except for this bit," She held up a strand that was shorter than the rest. "Should have known better than to ask Miriam for help. It just made her so ridiculously happy, though."

"So," Moze said, picking up a punch cup. "We finally did it! We actually pulled off this dance. It looks pretty dang good, if you ask me. To us!" He held his cup up in kind of a pseudo toast and everyone followed suit. He knocked it against Helga's cup, then took a sip.

"It is pretty awesome," Teri agreed. "You should see the line for your haunted house, Arnold. There's, like, a twenty five minute wait to get in. Every once in a while you can actually hear someone scream. You wanna go, Aggie?" Agatha shook her head vigorously.

"Looks like you did something right, football head," Helga said.

"Thanks," He replied.

She blinked at him. "Are you...the Mad Hatter?"

"Uh..."

"He certainly is. Doesn't he look great?" Gerald said. Arnold glared at him.

Moze pulled his mask up and rested it on the top of his head in order to see better. "Oh, hey, you are the Hatter. You stalkin' us or something?"

Arnold shook his head. "No, it was an accident! I didn't know what you guys were coming as, my grandma just kind of stuck me in this, it's really just a coincidence."

"Your grandma did?" Helga asked and Arnold nodded. She gave him a funny look and muttered, "How did she know?"

"Know what?"

"Nothing." She looked away, taking a sip of her drink.

"No worries," Moze said. "The more the merrier! Right, Helga?"

She shrugged, "Why not? This loony night just wouldn't be complete without a little extra madness."

The song playing switched and Gerald said, "I love this song! Care to dance, Phoebe?"

Phoebe downed the rest of her drink. "Let's do this." The couple moved towards the dance floor, and Gerald glanced back, pointed at Helga, then at Arnold, then at Helga. Arnold gave a quick jerk of his hand to wave Gerald away.

"The night is young, friends!" Teri said, taking Agatha's arm. "Let us dance 'til dawn!"

"All right!" Moze followed after them, but Helga hesitated a moment. She turned to Arnold and looked him up and down with a smirk. His heart sped up under her gaze and he couldn't help thinking that under all the makeup and blood she looked beautiful.

"Nice ascot, Chuck," She said. "I used to think they were only for gay Europeans, but you pull it off."

He snorted and opened his mouth to respond, but just then Lenny grabbed him by the front of the shirt. "Mama-mia! Arnold, who is that mega fine lady over there?"

Arnold followed his gaze to see Sheena picking out a cauldron cake, dressed like Arwen, with the elf ears and everything. "You mean Sheena?"

"Sheena," Lenny gripped his heart. "Man, I love me a taaaall woman..."

"Well, go talk to her," Arnold said, pulling Lenny's hands off and pushing him away. He turned back to Helga only to see her walking with Moze into the dancing crowd. Dang. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Helga was actually having a great time. The night seemed to be flying by—Moze had picked her up, repeating, "We're late, we're late, for a very important date!" and making Miriam laugh like it was the funniest thing she'd heard all year. Then they'd picked up the others and headed to a quaint diner where dinner had passed by fine—Moze had paid so Helga had eaten as much as she wanted. Other than a brief encounter with Curly and Hettie (a twenties gangster and flapper girl) who tried to, "accidentally", lock her in the prop coffin when her group was taking pictures, she was having a pretty fun time. She was genuinely enjoying herself, dancing around with her friends, and Moze was always pretty good company. He was a terrible dancer, which just made it all the more fun for Helga, because then she got the added pleasure of teasing him about it. They hadn't seen Lenny in a while—he'd wandered away, saying something about elven princesses. Teri and Agatha had started the night out with them, but then Teri got really excited about bobbing for apples and the cake walk, so he dragged Agatha along after him. Gerald and Phoebe hung around, and spent most of their time quoting Star Wars. Around ten forty five Phoebe and Helga slunk away to the bathroom, and Phoebe said to Gerald as she left, "I love you," and he replied very seriously, "I know."

In the bathroom, Phoebe sighed blissfully. "This is so much fun, don't you think, Helga? Everything is so perfect: the music, the decorations, the food, the boys..." Phoebe looked up at her friend slyly. "Don't you think the food is just delicious?"

"Meh, I guess it's fine."

"Just fine? Goodness, with how many times you've been over to the snack tables, one would think you had the biggest sweet-tooth in school. Perhaps the sweets you're really looking for aren't necessarily edible?"

Helga gave her the stink eye, her cheeks a bit pink. "Watch yourself, Princess."

Phoebe just giggled.

It was true, Helga visited the food tables pretty much every fifteen minutes. She couldn't help it, she got munchy and thirsty really often. Besides, it was a very convenient excuse for when she wanted to see Arnold. Which was all the time. She had to admit, it was part of the reason she was having such a nice time. It was so easy to just pop over with a quick "No time to say hello, goodbye, football head, just here for some grub," or "Are you _still_ out of chocolate frogs?" and he'd simply roll his eyes and reply "Maybe if a certain _someone _hadn't eaten them all..." Then she'd hang around the buffet until the song changed or Moze found her, but it wouldn't be long until she was "starving and parched" again. Food and Arnold. Basically it was a win-win. So, of course, she found herself "starving and parched" quite often.

Which was probably why she then had to make a run for the porcelain palace. Geeze.

They left the bathroom and wandered down the hall back to the gym. They paused in the doorway and Helga looked over to where the snack tables were. After a moment's deliberation she said over the music, "Go on ahead, Phebes, I'll catch up in a minute."

"Where are you going?"

"Just to get a quick drink."

"I see. Off to get a _tall_ glass of water..."

"Can it, Phoebe."

Phoebe hid a smile with one of her long, droopy white sleeves. "Canning it."

Helga set out across the gym. She really was enjoying her night with her friends, but there was no denying the pure sense of happiness she got when she saw Arnold. It was like a light suddenly being turned on in her soul every time she reached the table where the little Mad Hatter stood. Ha. The Mad Hatter. She had no idea how his grandma had known, but, honestly, it was so unnerving it was kind of funny. And he looked good, anyway. Since she'd last seen him he'd taken off his over coat and rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt. He was focused on wiping down a plastic cauldron with a rag but looked up when she came over.

"Hey," He said with a smile. "Back already?"

"Yep. What happened?" She looked down at the paper towels scattered on the table cloth in front of him.

"Jason put too much dry ice in this thing and it boiled out all over Ashlee. She went to wash up and I sent Jason for more punch."

"Yeesh. Surrounded by idiots, that's what you are." She came around to his side of the table and leaned back against it, her arms folded. "So I guess you're out of punch?"

"Your cup's right there, if that's what you're asking," He looked toward an orange cup hidden behind a bowl of gummy spiders. Aw, he'd saved it for her. Helga took it up and sipped at it. He was really such a nice guy, constantly looking out for everyone. She wondered if there was a way for her to help him: maybe somehow help him with presidential stuff, or maybe she could finally talk to the principal and get him out of detention. Something anonymous would be best—she was in love, sure, but that didn't mean she had to tell the whole world.

Maybe just him. Or not. She still hadn't decided. It was funny; there was once a time when all she ever wanted in life was to tell him how she felt. Maybe this was a sign she was growing up—she could be content with just loving him, and nothing more.

He glanced at her. "What?"

She realized she'd been staring. "I was just wondering: are you just wearing that top hat, or is your baseball hat under it?"

"Is that all?" He set the rag and cauldron aside and took the hat off. Underneath it his yellow hair poked out in all directions, but the baseball hat was absent. He leaned over and put the top hat on Helga's head. "Satisfied?"

The hat was too big, so it slid down to her eyebrows. She pushed it up. "Criminy, this thing is massive. I suppose it has to be to fit your giant alien noggin."

"Alien?"

"You look like you could be a distant relative to E.T. Feel like phoning home anytime soon?" She pointed her finger in his face. "Phone hooome..."

He pushed her hand away. "Maybe I'm just ahead of the evolutionary curve."

"You mean in a hundred years everyone will have a football head? Creepy. And tell me again how that's _not _alien?"

"Why do you always bring up my head, anyway?"

"Doi. Have you seen it? It's like the eighth World Wonder."

He snorted. "Maybe it's _your_ head that's weird and small, you ever think of that?"

"_My_ head? That's just crazy talk. Are you actually mad? Does this hat have mercury on it, or something? Am I being poisoned while I wear it?"

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I'm mad. We're all mad here." He widened his eyes slightly. "Besides, if I was going to poison you, I would have put it in your drink. Much easier."

She made a face at her cup and set it down like it might burn her. "Poison my tea, huh? Hmph. I curse _all_ your future un-birthdays."

"What, no off with my head?"

"Do I look like the Queen of Hearts to you? Come on, even _you_ should know the difference, noddle brain," She yanked on his scarf, only feigning annoyance. She must have pulled way harder than she thought, though, because suddenly Arnold was only inches away from her. Her heart, quite literally, jumped into her throat and stopped beating. She may have stopped breathing as well, but she was too distracted to think about that.

He reached up and tugged on the rim of the hat, dipping his head to better look her in the eye. He said in a much lower voice, "Well, it's too late, anyway. I've already lost my head."

She had a strong sense of deja vu—it seemed like their faces had been this close, recently. However, there was one thing vastly different: _he_ was coming closer to _her. _And there were _people_ around. Didn't he know that if he didn't stop then their faces would run into each other? Not that she was trying to stop it; in fact, her hand still held tightly to his scarf, holding him close. But that was her. She always wanted to kiss him. The question was, what was _he_ doing?

"Hey, guys..."

They turned. Moze stood a couple feet away, eyebrows raised. Arnold straightened, flipped the top hat off her head and onto his own, then turned back to the cauldron, not looking at them. Helga didn't know who to stare at more, Arnold or Moze.

Moze looked back and forth between them. "Sorry, did I...Are you turning blue?"

Oh, right. Breathing. That was important. She hit her fist quickly on her chest, making herself cough and gasp for air. She wheezed for a second before saying, "I'm good..."

Moze looked at her strangely. "Ok...Um, Teri saved us a spot in line for the haunted house, but if now isn't a good time..."

"Now is a great time, fabulous time, why wouldn't now be a good time?" She stepped around the table and right past Moze, not looking at him.

"All right..." Moze followed her, glancing back at Arnold once.

Helga didn't get the courage to look back until she was halfway across the gym, and by then Arnold was only a glimpse of a figure beyond the crowd. But she could have sworn, just for a second, that he was looking in her direction.

_Oh, holy lord of all fudge muffins_, she thought, her face burning, _What the CRAP was that?_

* * *

At eleven thirty, Arnold sat at a round table to one side of the gym. Rhonda had swept by the snack tables a few minutes ago and told him he deserved a break, so now he was passing the time by tossing candy corn into Lenny's cup that he had left behind. Sid sat across from him, red boots on the table, trying to get more candy corn into the cup than Arnold did.

The night was indeed moving very slowly for Arnold. He'd already been there six hours today, and he'd probably still have to stay after to help clean up. For a while he'd been having a bit of fun, waiting for Helga to come back to the snack tables every once in a while. But he hadn't seen her in almost an hour, and he didn't know if that was because Moze was keeping her away from him, or if she was avoiding him herself.

Crap. He was an idiot. He'd probably completely embarrassed both Helga and Moze. He'd honestly meant to just help her have a good time on her date tonight and he'd come to the dance, fully intending to do his job and not be jealous of Moze at all. Arnold was pretty sure that Helga didn't like Moze that way, so he'd thought there was no danger, and he shouldn't be jealous. The problem was, it had bothered him far more than he thought it would. Every time Helga had been at the snack table, talking to him, and Moze had come by and taken her away, it ticked Arnold off. A lot.

Gerald and Phoebe happened by and took seats at Arnold's same table, exhausted. Gerald put an arm on the back of Phoebe's chair and she leaned on his shoulder, yawning. "It's been a hard day's night," Gerald said. "You two look tired. How's it going with the ladies, Sid?"

"_What_ ladies?" Sid said grumpily.

"That bad, huh?"

Sid just flung another candy corn, but it bounced off the table and fell into the grinning mouth of the jack-o-lantern on the table.

Gerald turned to Arnold. "How about you?"

Arnold glared at him.

"Someone's cranky." He lowered his voice, trying to keep out of Sid's earshot, "What happened? You get in a fight with Helga, or something?"

"Worse. I tried to kiss her."

Gerald looked startled and Phoebe perked up. Sid kept trying angrily to get a corn in the cup, grumbling something about how annoying Stinky was. Gerald said,"What, here? At the dance?"

Arnold nodded. "Then Moze showed up."

Gerald sucked in through his teeth and Phoebe said, "Oh, no..."

"Yep."

"Did he say anything?" Gerald asked.

"Nope. They both left. I haven't seen them since."

Gerald clucked his tongue and Phoebe shook her head.

"I thought you said you weren't going to make a pass at her tonight," Gerald pointed out. "What happened to, and I quote, 'I just want her to have fun'?"

"I didn't _mean_ to. It was an accident." He hadn't even thought about it—she'd just looked so good, his body had moved all on it's own.

"Right, sure. You sly dog." Gerald gave him a friendly punch on the arm.

Phoebe, who, of course, had been kept up to date on all the goings on of the last few days by Gerald, said, "You seem to always have the most unfortunate timing, Arnold."

"Tell me about it. I feel like our lives are just going in circles—every single time we start getting somewhere we always get interrupted, then Helga bolts off and acts like it never happened, and we're back to square one again. It's driving me _crazy_." He tossed his last candy corn hard and it landed in the cup with a splash. "Why can't she just communicate with me like a _normal_ person?"

"Harsh, you 'Mad Hatter'." Gerald was the only one that chuckled at his own joke and quickly stopped when he realized it was dumb.

"Don't be angry. It's not quite so simple for Helga," Phoebe said. "It's difficult for her to talk about her feelings. You have to speak to her in a way that will allow her to be open."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Gerald said dryly. "The only time she's being open is when she's cussing you out."

The three quited when Lenny approached the table and took a seat next to Sid. His cheek looked kind of red and his mustache was crooked.

"What happened to you?" Sid asked.

"Sheena," Lenny replied with a sigh. "She's so sweet."

Sid shook his head. "Women. Can't live with them, think of nothing else, go crazy, and hate your life without them."

"Amen, brother," Gerald said, looking pointedly at Arnold. Arnold avoided his gaze.

"Didn't Sheena come with Eugene?" Phoebe asked.

Lenny said, "Yeah, but that's ok. I think we had a special connection. Don't worry, I'm not dissuaded so easily—I'll try again later, and then she'll see what a great catch I am." He picked up his cup from the table and took a swig, promptly choking on candy corn. Sid laughed at him.

"What about you, Arnold?" Phoebe said, "You couldn't possibly be dissuaded so easily, could you?"

"Well, no, but there's not a whole lot I can do about it currently."

"If you had the chance to talk to her, would you?"

She was looking at him very seriously so he replied just as seriously, "Yeah. I would."

She nodded and leaned towards Gerald, whispering hurriedly in his ear. Gerald's eyes slid over to Arnold. He smiled, and Arnold felt kind of nervous. "You got it, babe," Gerald stood and announced, "I'm moving out!" He turned and set off.

Lenny, wiping the last of his spilled punch off his shirt, called out, "But your tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker!"

Gerald turned and pointed at Lenny, shouting back, "Then I'll see you in Hell!" Then Mrs. Joy, one of the chaperons, happened by right then, caught Gerald by the ear, and warned him about using strong language at a school event.

"Where's he going?" Sid asked when Mrs. Joy set Gerald free and he disappeared.

"You'll see." Phoebe smiled round at them.

Arnold gave her a sidelong look. "What are you up to?"

Phoebe eyed him back coyly but didn't respond. A minute later Gerald hopped on the stage and took the microphone from the DJ. He straightened his leather vest and smoothed some hair back before he made a slash mark across his throat and the DJ cut the music. The student body turned round to look at Gerald. "_Helloooo, fellow students! Are you having a good night_?" There were some cheers. "_Aw, come on. Are you having a _good night?" More cheering. "_All right! That's what I'm talking 'bout. Well, we are so glad that you all came out here, and we'd like to just take a little minute to thank the mastermind behind tonight—Miss Rhonda Wellington Lloyd_!" He pointed to where Rhonda stood on the edge of the crowd, staring up at him like "OH. MY. GOSH. WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?" Gerald continued, "_That's right, there she is! Let's give a quick round of applause, shall we_?" There was some clapping, and Rhonda waved graciously. "_So, before the night's over, we'd like to move on to our last event—the dance competition! Oh, it'll be groovy! So real quick, let me just call up the judges. Oh, look, here's Mrs. Joy now_!" Gerald turned as Mrs. Joy stomped on the stage, ready to drag Gerald away. Gerald just wrapped an arm around her. "_The lovely Mrs. Joy. So glad you could be here. Any words_?" He held the microphone to her and she opened her mouth but he pulled it back. "_No? Ok. Anyway, our other two judges are the fantastic Miss Sara Xanthe, and one of our newest students, Mr. Carlos Mooooze! All right, let's get those two on up here_!" Gerald led the audience in another applause while Moze and a girl in a genie costume made their ways to the stage. Arnold raised his eyebrows and looked at Phoebe, who shrugged innocently. "_So these three judges will have the blessed opportunity of watching you all jive and boogy, and at midnight they will announce the winner! __The only rules are, one: you can't dance with your date. Grab someone you don't know and hope that they know what they're doing! And two: there are no rules. Dance your hearts out, people_!" He turned back to the DJ, who started the music again. The crowd shuffled around as some people left the dance floor and others tried to find a new dance partner.

"This is my chance!" Sid and Lenny said at the same time. They stood, ran into each other, and then headed off.

Arnold turned to Phoebe.

"Well?" She said. "What are you waiting for?"

"Absolutely nothing." He stood up and took his coat and hat off, handing them to Phoebe.

"Go get her!" Phoebe said with a fierce smile.

"Yes, ma'am." He turned and walked purposefully into the crowd, absolutely determined.

* * *

The comfort and confidence Helga had been feeling earlier in the day had all but completely dissipated. Just a few hours ago she'd been completely content with her situation in life for the first time in weeks, nay, years. Now, she was totally confused again. _For crap's sake, Arnold. Are you trying to kill me?_

"Stupid, do-goody, adorable, idiot, gonna kick your trash..."

"What did that bracelet ever do to you?" Patty said.

Helga looked down at the pink "I Heart Arnold" bracelet in her hands. She'd accidentally worn it out of the house when Moze had picked her up, and when she'd noticed she quickly slipped it into her apron pocket. As she was standing against the wall now she had absently taken it out and had been stretching it with considerable violence.

Patty stood next to her in a long white dress as Snow White. When Moze had been called away, Helga had somehow ended up near Patty and Lila (Little Red Riding Hood), and it had only been seconds before some boy wandered over and asked Lila to dance.

The degree to which Helga had been relieved when Moze left was so great it made her feel guilty. The two of them had been pretending that nothing was awkward, but in reality the air was so thick with awkwardness Helga had once choked on it. Literally. It was so much nicer to be hanging with Patty, a big, silent pillar that didn't care if she muttered threats under her breath. She wasn't sure who she was threatening, Arnold, herself, or the world in general. She just felt tense. And every time the thought popped into her head, _Did I hallucinate, or did Arnold just try kissing me?_ she practically died inside. Like just now. She focused the confused and embarrassed energy into stretching out the little bracelet, but accidentally let go and sent it flying into Harold's head.

"Ow! Hey! What's the big idea?" Harold glared round at them.

"Sorry," Helga said halfheartedly.

He pouted at her before lumbering over. Patty straightened away from the wall. "Hey, Harold."

"Hey, Patty. Nice dress."

"Thanks," Patty replied. "I like your suit. Where's Rhonda?"

Harold shrugged. "Curly asked her to dance. Dweeb."

"Loosing out to a psychopath," Helga said, ornery. "A psychopath that does ballet. You'll never live that down." She paused. "Does he still do ballet?"

Harold glared at her, but Patty ignored her and said, "Want to dance with me, Harold?"

"Yeah, all right." He held out his hand and she took it.

Helga watched the two head to the dance floor. Well, good for Patty. Besides, in her big dress and his suit, the two almost looked like they'd matched on purpose. How quaint. Uht-oh. Speaking of matching people that weren't supposed to be matching, Arnold was walking straight toward her.

_Crap on a stick! Ok, be cool, be cool. Whatever you do, just don't scream in his face._

"Oh, football head," She said, sniffing and looking away, like he wasn't important at all. "Didn't see you there."

"Come dance with me."

"Pfft, dance with—" She never got to finish, though, because he grabbed her hand and led her straight to the dance floor. He wove through the crowd, pushing through bodies of couples dancing, until he found a small nook where they could fit.

"Uhh," Helga started. She was actually not comfortable with this at all. Her heart was racing faster than the music, and she really didn't know if she could handle being so close to him right now while her brain was so stressed and confused. There was no telling what she might do. She tried to pull her hand out of his and said over the music, "I dunno if I wanna dance with you. If you remember, the last time we danced you threw me in a pool."

He put an arm around her waist and held her tight to him. "Don't worry—there's no pool here."

"Oh, goody. Now I'm at ease." No. She wasn't. She was most definitely not at ease. Her palms were sweaty and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears louder than the music. The worst was that she recognized the look in Arnold's eyes. It was hard and serious, like he had something on his mind and he wouldn't take no for an answer. Craaaaaaaap. She couldn't look away. Any second now, he'd probably start reading her mind.

"So, Helga," He said as they turned to the music. "I'm sorry I almost kissed you in front of Moze."

If he hadn't been holding her so tight, she definitely would have fallen over. _OH MY HECK, WHY. A little beating around the bush wouldn't kill you, Arnold!_

But then it sunk in that he was apologizing. For almost kissing her. So, what, that had just been stupid boy hormones or something? It was only a regrettable accident?

"But, then," He continued, "You did try to kiss me back."

Luckily, her good old fashioned defense mechanisms kicked in. She laughed in his face, and it most definitely sounded insane. "Pfft, kiss _you_? Ha, yeah, maybe when Hell freezes over. The outfit must be going to your head, you mad little man."

For a second she thought he looked like he wasn't buying it, but then he said, "I know. You don't like me like that."

Oh, good, maybe the awkwardness was over for now. "Well, glad we cleared _that _up!" She tried to push away, but his arm was around her tight.

He said, "You know what that just reminded me of? All those years ago when they almost demolished our neighborhood, and we somehow ended up on top of the FTi building. Do you remember that?"

_ That time I confessed my love and kissed you and embarrassed the crap out of both of us? Yeah, I remember that. _"Nope. Don't remember that."

"Huh. I do. You told me you were in love with me. Isn't that funny?" He wasn't smiling.

"Oh, aha ha, yeah, hilarious!" She looked around, making sure no one around them was hearing this.

"Because everyone knew you didn't like me at all."

"Got that right."

"Actually, you hated me. A lot. Right?"

"_Hate_ right, yeah, that's what it was..."

"It's all right, Helga. I know you hated me. You've only ever hated me. It's nice of you to try being friends with me now, but you don't have to. I know you hate me."

They'd stopped dancing now, and just stood in the middle of the dance floor. Helga paused before answering, trying to reel in her panic. She couldn't let her fear rule her—she was past all that fake hate. Being in love was ok, and she didn't have to pass it off as anything else. "I don't hate you," She said at last.

"Yes, you do. You're like an open book—Helga Pataki: hates everyone. Doesn't ever like anyone. You haven't changed at all."

Well, that just plum ticked her off. "Hey! Hey, hey, hey! What is your problem, numskull?" She was really being thrown off by pretty much everything that was happening right now. First off, the music was loud and distracting, and second, he was still _really_ close to her. He was so close, she could smell him over the heavy musk of the rest of the crowd. He smelt good, which was making her head spin. On top of that, this whole conversation was wonky, and everything all together made her nerves very raw and jumpy and easy to snap. "I _like_ people! Hello, have you seen my friends? Oh, and, to clue you in, dumbo—_you're one of them. _I don't know what the _heck_ is wrong with you right now, but get your panties out of a twist."

"Right, of course, sorry. I meant, you never_ like_ like anyone. It's just not in your nature."

She scoffed. "I have like liked someone."

"It's ok that you haven't. Some people just aren't cut out for loving. It's no big deal."

"What? I can _so _love, you moron! I _am_ in love!"

"Oh, really? You're in love?"

"_Yes_, I'm in love."

He raised a dubious eyebrow. "Really?"

"_Yes_." Why was he being so _annoying_?

"That's right, of course. You're in love with Moze."

"What? Are you soft in the head? I am not in love with Moze."

"Don't be silly. It's obvious."

She didn't know if she was more angry, or shocked. Was he really so dumb? "I do _not_ love Moze."

"Sure you do."

"_No_, I don't!"

"You do."

"I _don't_!" In the back of her head, she felt her last nerve snap in half. She put her hands on his chest and really shoved him, finally separating herself. "I'm in love with _you_, idiot!"

He looked triumphant. "Ha! I knew it!"

She threw her hands up in frustration. "Oh, you knew it, you knew it! Whatever!" She pointed at him angrily. "You didn't know anything! You _never_ noticed! I used to stand outside your house for hours and you never even noticed! I used to work tooth and nail, just to get your attention, all the while you were chasing every other girl but me! I've been in love with you since the _first_ day of preschool! You think I hated you? HA! I was in _elementary_ school! Bugging you, messing with you—that was practically me confessing my undying love! I used to creep up on your roof and watch you sleep! I used to threaten all the other kids just so I could sit next to you! I used to imagine us getting married and having kids and growing old together! For crap's sake, I even collected all your old gum and made a to-scale model of your stupid football head! I was totally gaga, flip my lid, over the top, _insane_ about you! And you wanna know the worst part? I STILL AM. So, _no_, you idiot, I don't hate you, and I _can_ love. I. Love. _You_!"

She paused to take a few deep breaths. Wow. That had felt...really good. That was twelve years of pent up emotion. Suddenly, she felt very drained and tired. She wiped her forehead. "Whew..."

A tap on her shoulder made her turn. She was surprised to find Mrs. Joy looking up at her with a tight smile. "I'm sorry, I'm going have to ask you to quiet down or leave. You're disturbing the other dancers."

All at once the music and lights and faces around swarmed back to her attention. The crowd around them had turned at all the yelling, and everyone was staring. She looked around and saw people she recognized—Lila, Stinky, Teri, Agatha, Eugene, Nadine, Peapod, Sid, Moze...And a million people she didn't know. Some leaned towards each other and whispered or pointed. She looked back at Arnold. His hard look was gone and he was staring at her with wide eyes.

She didn't panic. She wasn't embarrassed. She felt...nothing. She just blinked back at him blankly.

Somewhere on the edge of the crowd, another ruckus drew attention to itself. Rhonda and Curly, who had been dancing together, had somehow found themselves kissing. Only to be seen by Hettie, of course, and then subsequently Harold. Hettie had, quite literally, tackled Rhonda, tearing at her hair and giving her a good solid punch to the nose. Rhonda had stumbled back and bumped into the snack table, where she'd grabbed the punch bowl and dumped the whole thing on Hettie's head. Meanwhile, Harold had Curly in a headlock, while Curly cackled and chewed on Harold's arm. Patty stood by, pulling on Harold's shirt, trying to get him to let go. Then Hettie was knocked into her, and Patty gave her a good elbow in the gut.

The yelling and fighting and knocking over of precious food made people stop and stare, and the crowd around Helga turned at the noises. After a particularly loud crash, Arnold finally broke eye contact, and his gaze slid towards the commotion. When he looked back a second later, Helga was nowhere in sight.

* * *

A/N: Dun dun duuuunnnn...


	10. Picking up the Pieces

A/N: Thank you for all the support!

Chapter 10: Picking up the Pieces

Saturday night Helga had left the loud music and bright lights for the dark city streets. It was bitter cold, and that seemed appropriate, although Helga didn't feel it much. She didn't really think about where she was going so she simply followed her feet. They led her to the bus stop, where she caught the night bus, and rode it back to East Hillwood. She'd sat in the back of the bus on the old seats and stared out the dark window without seeing. The whole way she had felt the same strange numbness as she had at the dance. Perhaps she was in shock. She made it home a little after midnight, and about fifteen minutes after that Moze knocked on the door. She, with surprising calm, assured him she was fine and, thankfully, he didn't stay long.

Sunday she just went throughout the day as though nothing was different. She watched TV and read a couple magazines and opened the fridge and stared inside it. The stupor was shattered, however, when her phone rang that night. She glanced at it, expecting it to be Phoebe or Agatha or someone, but nearly dropped it when she saw it was Arnold. She let it ring, not daring to answer, but she did listen to the brief apology message that he left her.

She didn't know what he was sorry about—she'd been the one to blow up. She figured that was Arnold just being Arnold. But the numbness that had settled over her dissipated at the recording of his voice. The reality of what had happened smacked her in the face like a wet fish, so hard she ended up face down on her bed, screaming into her pillow. She prayed to the gods of puberty to please just let her die, because she really couldn't handle awkward teenage life any longer. Actually, this was beyond awkward. This was horrifically heinous and bloodcurdling. She might literally explode from the humiliation.

But the embarrassment, if at all possible, was just the surface. That wasn't really what was killing her. She did still feel the small sense of relief at having finally let go of her great secret, of setting it free, but what over powered it was the last look she had seen on Arnold's face. He'd just stared at her with wide eyes, like he had been afraid of her, and she knew that she had just destroyed any chance of a normal friendship with him. That face, quite literally, haunted her.

Monday, she flat out skipped school and lounged around in pajamas. She stole Miriam's secret stash of chocolate from her parents' bedroom while both were gone, and ate all of it while watching Dawn of the Dead. Miriam came home from yoga and felt her forehead, and then made chicken noodle soup from the can. Big Bob came home in the evening, took one look at his "sick" daughter, and then avoided her the rest of the evening, like she might give him leprosy, while his wife sprayed the air with Lysol. Helga ignored both of them.

Tuesday essentially was the same. The only difference was, Helga began to feel...guilty. After all her bellyaching about not regressing back to a childish sociopath, was that what she was doing? There she sat, eating TV tray dinners with her parents and watching Duck Dynasty, and feeling like she was not where she was supposed to be. She left the couch and went into her room, barely getting past the doorway before flopping on the floor and rethinking her life choices thus far.

What had happened to New Helga? What had happened to "I am Woman"? What had happened to "even if he doesn't love me back, it's ok to be in love"? What was she _doing_, hiding away in her house, not showering for three days, and eating junk food? Was she really gonna bottom out like every other stupid teenage girl who accidentally embarrassed herself in front of a guy? How much more pathetic could she get?

As she lay on the floor her phone started ringing. She yanked on the charger chord, pulling it down from her dresser, and looked at it, again expecting another text or call from Phoebe or Agatha, who had both been trying to get a hold of her. It was Arnold. What was he calling for? She set the phone on the ground in front of her and waited for it to stop ringing. When it did, she sighed, and she wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment. Then, the phone buzzed again. She stared at it with a furrowed brow but again let it ring. Maybe if she stared long enough, the caller ID would change from Arnold to someone else. It didn't. He was probably calling to apologize again for something he didn't do, or ask if she was really sick, or say "it's not you, it's me". After a minute, it stopped ringing, but every once in a while throughout the night it rang again. Five times. He called her five times in a matter of just a couple hours. Not that she was counting.

By the time Helga was crawling into bed, she had come to a conclusion: she couldn't live her life running from Arnold. Maybe he _was_ calling to say "it's not you, it's me" but she would have to face it like an adult. She couldn't be a child, just because she was afraid of rejection. She couldn't take back her love and pretend it never happened—not this time. This had to be her turning point, her mouse-or-man point. Hadn't Arnold always told her to not hide who she was and to be herself and junk like that? Well, dang it all, maybe that's what she'd do.

* * *

Ever since Saturday, Arnold had been unsure what to think. Helga's outburst had surprised him—he'd thought she liked him, but to what extent, he had no idea. Evidently, her feelings were much stronger and different than he'd first guessed. Afterwards, Helga had completely disappeared from the dance. Arnold had searched through the crowd, checked the girls bathroom, and everywhere else Helga could have been hiding, but didn't find her. He ran into Moze, Phoebe, and Helga's other friends once in a while but their luck in finding her wasn't any better than his. Moze eventually gave up and deduced that she must have gone home. He left the dance, planning to go to Helga's house to make sure she'd at least made it safely.

Arnold spent all of Saturday night and most of Sunday trying to digest everything that had happened. There were a lot of things to think about—Helga loved him. She didn't just like like him, she really _really_ loved him. And she'd been in love with him for years. And all that stuff she'd said about following him around and messing with his head and collecting his old _gum._..that was all a little freaky to think about. He tried to think back to their childhood and decipher which of their interactions had happened because she had been in love with him. He'd always thought she was different than she seemed, not so rough and tough, but how had he never noticed _how_ different? He felt like an idiot for not knowing all this time how she felt. Which brought him to his next problem: he liked her a lot, yes, but after her little confession he felt that her feelings ran much deeper than his. He didn't know how to respond to her. _Did_ he love her? It seemed lame, calling it that, after thinking about how long Helga had loved him—as if he didn't have the right to call his feelings love when compared to hers.

And on top of all this, he knew he had completely humiliated her in front of half the school. He'd lost control as he'd egged her on, trying to get her to admit that she liked him. The result was more than he had bargained for, and it made him feel like a total jerk. It had been really poor planning on his part; he should have waited until they were alone, until she wasn't on a date, until they weren't at a public function. It was his fault that she had been embarrassed, and that Moze had been embarrassed, and every time someone at school came up to him and said, "Hey, weren't you the guy that that crazy chick went all psycho on at the dance? Yikes, am I right, man?" it was like a blow to the stomach. It was because of him that Helga's feelings were being poked fun at, and he felt downright awful about the whole thing.

Sunday afternoon he supposed he'd digested enough, because suddenly his phone was in his hand and he was dialing Helga's number. He wasn't sure what to say, but he felt like he should call. It was no surprise when she didn't answer. He left a message, something like, "Hey, Helga, it's Arnold, uh, sorry, you know, about everything. I understand if you don't want to talk right now, so, um. Yeah. Bye."

On Monday, Helga hadn't been at school. Which, of course, he felt was his fault. She was probably avoiding him, and didn't want to subject herself to the mockery of fellow students. He thought maybe this was for the best. Perhaps another day of recovery might help her, and honestly him. He had no idea what he was going to do when he saw her. Which was why, after school, he wondered what on earth he was doing sitting in the Packard, driving to her house. He barely made it to the end of his block before turning back. He sat in the car for an hour, trying to sort out what was going on in his head. Eventually Phil found him, climbed in on the passenger's side, and asked him why he looked like he'd just got run over by a bus. Arnold spilled the entire story, from finding out he liked Helga to making her confess, and at the end, his grandfather threw his head back and laughed so hard he was in tears. Cheeks red, Arnold had gotten out of the car, slammed the door, and headed back inside. Phil had found him in his room later and told him, "Sometimes, Shortman, everything has to fall apart before you can put it back together. And when you do, you can put it back so it's even better than it was the first time. Are you gonna finish that sandwich?"

Tuesday, Helga still wasn't at school. Gerald said, "Maybe she really is out sick," and Phoebe added, "I'm certain she'll be back soon." Arnold's overactive imagination was against him, as it usually was, and filled his head with a million doubts. What if she never came back? What if she was so embarrassed she transferred to another school? What if her mortification and his awful behavior made her start hating him and he never got the chance to explain? And, biggest of all, how would he feel if any of these happened? These questions floated around his head enough that he had a hard time focusing at basketball practice. Beezus was in a tizzy since they had a game that weekend, and he yelled at everyone (especially Arnold), getting himself so upset that he popped a blood vessel in his neck and had to go to the clinic. He'd left Itchy and Moze in charge of the J.V. team, and Arnold, who had been benched, had found himself in an uncomfortably close proximity to Moze. Moze hadn't said anything, but Arnold could tell he was mad. The senior didn't make eye contact with him and had given him the cold shoulder the last two days. Sitting close by him then, Arnold cleared his throat and said, "Moze, I'm sorry about Saturday. Things got a little out of hand, and it was my fault. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I hope you're not mad at Helga."

Moze gave him a cool look before turning back towards the boys on the court. "I'm not mad at Helga. She said she was sorry when I saw her after the dance. We made up and made out. Guess she's my girlfriend, now." For about ten agonizingly long seconds, Arnold had thought he was serious. Then Moze shot him a sarcastic look over his shoulder. "Just messing with you. We're not going out."

Arnold hadn't been sure if he was angry or relieved, but either way he guessed he had deserved the ribbing.

Moze then continued, "Don't worry, I didn't have my sights set on Helga, or anything. We were friends, and I thought she was kinda cute. I think I mostly just had my ego bruised a bit—I've never had a girl confess to another guy while I was on a date with her before. And in front of a bunch of people...Nothing to do about it now, I guess. I had a feeling you guys liked each other, anyway. You have some major issues to work through, though, dude."

He didn't have to tell Arnold that. He was well aware. "If I can make it up to you, Moze, just say so."

"Fantastic," Moze had given him a friendly smack on the cheek, "Start with twenty laps. You're playing today was horrible, you need to get back into shape." Arnold did as he was told, but apparently not fast enough, 'cause halfway through Moze told him to hurry up and run an extra five. Moze would probably be picking on him a bit the rest of the week, out of revenge, but Arnold felt he had no room to complain. Besides, he felt like he owed Moze. In the brief seconds that Arnold had thought Moze and Helga had become a couple, his stomach had become so nauseous that he knew right then exactly how he felt about Helga. He had looked at all the ins and outs of Helga being crazy and kind of scary in love with him and her angry confession and how he'd been a total jerk and how they always fought and what everyone might think and came to the conclusion that the only thing he really knew was that he wanted to see her. And say what, he still wasn't sure, but that didn't matter. He called her Tuesday night (like five times) and told himself if she wasn't back in class the next day, then he'd head straight to her house after school.

Wednesday morning he sat behind Gerald in their first class, bouncing his eraser on the desk in time to the ticking clock. He looked out the window at the rather sunny Halloween day and ignored the teacher's boring retelling of the Donner Party. She was just starting to put the front row to sleep when Gerald spun around in his seat. "Arnold, brace yourself—Helga's back in school today."

Arnold blinked at him. "If you're lying to me, I will hit you."

"I'm not lying, look," He showed his phone to Arnold. It was a text from Teri that read: _Pataki's back today. _"I told him to give me a heads up when she came back. So? What's the plan, Stan my man?"

"No plan. This time, I'm shooting straight. "

* * *

Helga had planned to go back to school and accept her fate with grace and poise. She'd gotten on the morning bus, nodded at Moze in a brisk but friendly manner, and made her way to the back of the bus, where Lenny said, "Hey, hey, if it isn't the little love bird herself! Are you finally over your _love_ sickness?"

Teri added, "Were you sick because the love bug bit you?"

She smacked them both upside the head. Agatha just stared at Helga before saying, "So you..."

Helga swallowed. All right, first test. Here goes. "Like Arnold?" She finished. Agatha nodded, and Helga said, "Yes. Yes, I do." Agatha nodded again and didn't ask more, and Helga thought, _Oh, yeah, I'm awesome. I totally admitted it._

School was fine, although she was in constant fear of running into Arnold. Every time a blond boy crossed paths with her she jumped, and Brainy stood too close and freaked her out so bad she accidentally elbowed him in the nose and knocked him back into a squad of freshmen cheerleaders.

Grace and poise?

Nailed it.

Second period was tense as she sat in between Agatha and Phoebe. A couple kids in the corner were whispering, and she was dying to know if they were talking about her. Phoebe, whom she could tell was dying to talk about it but was trying to hold back, said reassuringly, "Don't worry, Helga. Actually, there aren't a whole lot of people talking about you—most everyone is distracted by what happened with Rhonda."

Helga had left the dance early, so as Phoebe told her about the spectacle Rhonda and Curly and their pals had made, she snickered. This made Helga feel better; she'd have to remember to thank them for making even bigger fools of themselves than she had of herself. Walking through the halls after that, she felt a little less paranoid. Now when she saw people talking in low voices, she imagined they were probably talking about Rhonda and Curly, rather than her. Well, until she ran into Rhonda herself, that is. Helga was digging in her locker, Agatha standing by her, when Rhonda passed by with Nadine on their way to lunch.

She grinned when she saw Rhonda's black eye. "Nice shiner, princess. Was kissing the little weirdo worth it?"

"Hmph." Rhonda flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I believe that's none of your concern."

"Right, right."

"Well, Helga. I heard you had plenty of excitement at the dance yourself."

"Oh, yeah, oodles."

"I simply must ask—you like _Arnold_? Surely you must be joking."

She crossed her arms. "It's a free country. I can like who I want."

Rhonda's eyes widened a little. "So, it _is _true! I thought I had been misinformed."

Nadine said, "I told you." She looked at Helga. "I thought it was very brave of you, Helga."

"Certainly," Rhonda agreed. "Few girls would confess that way. I would have _died_ from the embarrassment!"

Helga's eye twitched. "Right, thanks."

"I never would have guessed it was Arnold you liked, would you, Nadine?"

Nadine shrugged, her dragonfly earrings flashing. "I don't think it's that strange. Arnold is very nice."

Nadine. Bless.

Rhonda said, "Well, of course, Nadine, but I simply meant it's strange that _Helga_ likes him. I mean, after so many years of torture it just seems so out of place."

"Torture?" Agatha asked.

"That's right, I suppose anyone who didn't go to P.S. 118 wouldn't know. You see, Helga used to abuse Arnold."

Agatha's eyebrows knitted together. "Abuse?" She looked up at Helga, who looked away.

"Exactly. Physically, verbally, emotionally. She was really quite awful to him, always picking on him and bullying him, and she never passed up a chance to publicly humiliate him—"

"_Ok_," Helga cut her off, cheeks pink, "I think she gets the picture. I wasn't always as kind hearted as I am now."

"Which is why the rest of us are all a bit shocked at the sudden change in heart."

Sid and Stinky wandered by then, a girl under Stinky's arm.

"Well, if it isn't the ladies of the hour!" Sid said to them.

"Aw, Rhonda, yer eye's not so puffy today." Stinky said. "Shame. I brought my camera." Rhonda scoffed.

Sid turned to Helga, elbowing her. "So, Helga. You love Arnold, huh?"

Helga swallowed. These people were much harder to talk to than anyone else—they knew her whole history, and she was battling the urge to simply tell all of them off and stomp away angrily. She told herself, _Ok, just be you. Don't freak out, don't lie, and don't hit anyone. _"Yeah, I like Arnold. What of it?"

"Boy howdy, I can't believe it! Man, I never thought our plan would work so well."

"Plan?" Helga said.

Stinky said, "See, Arnold thought you hated him, so a couple weeks ago we all decided to make you like him by puttin' up posters and basketball 'n stuff."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rhonda said, "Helga said she'd liked Arnold for a long time. This hardly has anything to do with basketball."

"I dunno, Rhonda, nothing quite says 'I love you' like the swish of the hoop when you make a basket. Music for the soul." Stinky said, and the girl under his arm agreed.

"Wait, what plan?" Helga said.

Sid ignored her, "Yeah, I forgot she said she'd liked him for a long time...isn't that the weirdest part of it?"

Helga rubbed her arm. "It's not that weird."

"Are you kiddin', Helga?" Stinky said. "It's downright zoinky!"

"Zoinky?" Agatha said.

"That's exactly what we were just saying," Rhonda said.

"That's what _you_ were saying," Nadine pointed out.

"Oh!" Said the girl with Stinky, "Is _this_ the girl that likes Arnold?" She looked Helga up and down and Helga felt uncomfortable.

Sid said, "Yeah, who would have thought, right? Ol' heartless Helga, breaking faces on the playground..."

Stinky finished, "All the while her heart was breaking. Makes you kind of misty eyed, don't it?"

Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Please, don't be so dramatic. She's not such a bully now, anyway, so it's different."

"Dramatic?" Sid said. "It's true, isn't it? I mean, Helga used to be so cranky all the time and most of us were more scared of her than not, but all this time she had a soft spot for Arnold. Heh, it just makes it all the more freaky! Gosh, you should have seen how surprised Arnold was when she told him." He made an impression of it Arnold's face. "Ha ha, and in front of everyone. You must be pretty embarrassed, Helga!" He elbowed Helga again, jovially.

Helga wrapped a slow arm around Sid's shoulder. She held up her fist in front of him. "Sid, you remember Old Betsy, right?"

He went cross eyed looking at it. "Yeah..."

"Good." She stared him down. "You know, I can still break faces."

Sid swallowed. "Yep. I got it."

Someone behind her pulled Sid away from her grasp and pushed him aside. Sid sighed with relief. Helga blinked at Arnold, who joined the circle with Gerald and Phoebe.

"Well, if it ain't the corn haired man himself!" Stinky said.

"Hey, guys," Arnold greeted. He looked at Helga brightly. It was a little blinding, actually. "Glad you're back in school. Feeling better?"

"Huh? Oh, right. I was sick. Yeah, peachy."

"Good." He smiled at her and she gave him a wary look.

Almost simultaneously, Lenny and Curly both approached from opposite direction.

Lenny said excitedly, "Dudes, they have cupcakes in the cafeteria today for Halloween! _Cupcakes_! With worms!"

"Really?" Sid perked up.

"I kid you not, my man."

Curly came up on the other side, "Good afternoon, my cream puff! How are you today?"

Rhonda rolled her eyes, "Ugh, I'm not your cream puff."

"Don't be shy, darling. I heard you broke up with Harold for me..." He leaned towards her, wiggling his eyebrows.

Rhonda stepped back. "I did break up with him, but not for you. Come on, Nadine."

Curly followed after them. "Oh, cream puff, there's no need to hide!"

Gerald shook his head; "I dunno if I'm more sorry for Harold, or Rhonda."

"Most definitely Rhonda," Phoebe said.

Lenny was bouncing anxiously. "Come on, let's go, or they'll all be gone!"

"Dudes, we have to hurry. We have to get cupcakes—there is no other option." Sid nodded.

"You guys go ahead," Arnold said, still watching Helga. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Helga?"

Actually, that sounded like a horrible idea. She really felt like racing Lenny and Sid for cupcakes, but she was currently trying to be an adult, so she supposed she had to stay and take whatever Arnold had to say like a woman. "I guess."

Everyone else looked back and forth between them. "All righty then," Gerald said at last, taking Phoebe's hand. "Great, so, you guys do your thang and meet up with us, ok? Ok." He passed by, patting Arnold on the shoulder.

The rest of the group moved away, Lenny singing a little song about gummy worms. Stinky said absently, "Did you know that Helga was my first love?" Everyone turned to him.

"She what now?" Gerald said.

"Yep, she plum broke my poor adolescent heart. I hope Arnold's not too hard on her."

"I don't think you have to worry," Phoebe said.

"It's like I don't even _know_ you!" Sid exclaimed, looking at Stinky.

Helga watched them all go with despair. By now the hall had emptied of everyone else, and Helga and Arnold were the only two left. She swallowed. Maybe she wasn't a man, maybe she was just a mouse. But he didn't look threatening. He looked...chipper. Well, fantastic. At least when she was being rejected, it'd be done with a smile. "So?" She said, crossing her arms. "You want to talk?"

He watched her for a second. "Are you mad at me?"

Well, that was pretty much the last thing she'd been expecting to come out of his mouth. "Uh, no...Why would I be mad at you?"

"For goading you into telling me how you felt in front of everyone. That was my fault, and I'm really sorry about it." He looked completely sincere, which confused her.

"How was that your fault?"

He sighed. "Well, I did it on purpose so I could get you to say what you really felt." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked bashful. "I thought you might like me, and I wanted to know how you felt because...well, I like you. I _like_ you, like you."

She blinked at him. "No you don't."

He smiled a little. "Yeah. I do. Again, I'm sorry about Saturday. I really didn't mean for all that to happen. I was mad and jealous and I got carried away. But I'm sorry, and if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just say so."

"Knock it off."

"Ok. Wait, knock what off?"

"This. It's not funny, Arnold."

"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm being totally serious." He did look serious. "I like you."

She wasn't processing what he was saying. It was like his words were bouncing off of her and she was trying very hard to grasp onto them, but they eluded her. "You don't like me."

"I do."

"You only think you do. Are you sick?"

He chuckled. "No, I'm not sick. I really do like you. A lot." His face seemed a little red. "So, I thought, maybe you and I could go out sometime?"

This conversation was not happening. Literally, in Helga's brain, it was not happening. Arnold didn't like her. No, he didn't. She shook her head, trying to get rid of all of her thoughts that were running amok. "No, I don't think so." She turned, walking towards the cafeteria, trying to think clearly.

Arnold raised his eyebrows and followed. "No? You are mad, I knew it. I'm really, really sorry—"

"I'm not mad."

"Then what's the matter?"

"I'm not going to go out with you."

"Why not? You like me, right?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm a man not a mouse, but I don't want your charity and million-thousand apology phone calls."

"Charity? You're not _listening_ to me, Helga! I'm telling you that I want to go out with you, and I'm serious. I really do."

"Well, don't worry, I'm sure you'll get over it. You'll be over me in a giffy."

"Hold on, let me get this straight—you're in love with me, but you're rejecting me? Why?"

Rejecting him? Was that what was happening? That couldn't be; wasn't she the one who was supposed to be being rejected? He must be confused. She sure as heck was. "You don't want to go out with me."

"Yes, I do. Have I ever done or said anything to make you think I _don't_? How many times do you need me to say it? I _really_ like you."

"Say it as many times as you like, it doesn't mean anything."

Arnold rolled his eyes in exasperation. "_Why_ are you so close-minded sometimes? You only ever hear what you want to hear! I like you, it's simple! Why is this such a hard concept to understand?"

"Ok, fine, you _like_ me! Which proves you're probably dumber than I thought!"

"What! Why are you doing this to yourself?" He grabbed her hand to stop her walking. "Stop being stupid!"

"_You_ stop being stupid! This is the _stupidest_ conversation I've ever had!" She broke out of his grip and stalked away, feeling a headache coming on. This time, he didn't follow.

_What, what, what, what..._

_ What?_

She walked down the hall, feeling like she'd just been through a tornado and then spat out again. She needed to process what had just happened, but she didn't know where to start. She rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes, feeling like her brain was whirring around so fast steam might start coming out her ears. Then it would probably explode. She should have stayed home, in bed.

She somehow reached the cafeteria, then wondered why she'd bother going there at all. She didn't feel like talking to anyone. She stood in the doorway, absently looking at the lively room, and feeling a little light headed. She was just about to turn around and leave when Phoebe caught sight of her. She was at a table with all the others while they happily ate their cupcakes, and when she saw Helga she hurried over, took her hand, and pulled her a little closer to the table.

"Helga, how did it go?" Phoebe asked anxiously. She looked around. "Where's Arnold?"

Helga shook her head. "I dunno."

Gerald had also turned to give Helga his full attention. "You don't look happy. What happened?"

"Gee willikers," Stinky said, "It's clear as horse spit—she's been rejected."

Sid shook his head sympathetically. Agatha stood and put a hand on Helga's arm. Teri said, "Aw, man, that sucks, sorry." Lenny offered her the last bite of his cupcake.

"That's not possible," Phoebe said, frowning. "What really happened?"

"He said..." She wrestled with it for a minute, before she finally said clearly, "He said he liked me."

Gerald nodded. "Right, because he does. And? Then what?"

Helga looked between Gerald and Phoebe with a furrowed brow. "Why don't you look surprised?"

They looked at each other. "Well, because we're not," Phoebe said.

"We know he likes you," Gerald said, "But tell us what happened next! Where is he? Why are you so gloomy?"

She didn't respond—she was beginning to process. They said they knew that he liked her. Which means he probably told them. And Arnold wasn't a liar, so, maybe, there was something to it.

"Oh, boy, don't look now, guys," Sid said, "But here comes Arnold."

The group turned to see Arnold coming in the cafeteria doors. They were dead silent as he crossed towards them, a hard look on his face. Helga swallowed and took a step back, but he walked right past the entire group. He didn't even pause to look at any of them. They watched him cross to a table in the middle of the cafeteria, where he said, "Excuse me," to the people sitting there, pushed aside their lunch trays, and stood on top of the table.

The mere act of climbing on the table grabbed quite a bit of attention, but the fact that it was Arnold, Sophomore class president, grabbed more, and to top it off, Arnold said loudly, "Excuse me for a minute, everyone, I have some very important presidential business." The buzz of conversation and clanging of trays quieted down, and only a few groups of people on the edges of the room didn't bother paying attention. When it was mostly quiet, Arnold said, "I'm publicly stating that I am in love with Helga Geraldine Pataki."

The room was quiet. A few students looked at each other, confused, and a couple asked, "Who's Helga?" The people at Helga's table sat with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Helga herself stood with her mouth open, staring up at him without blinking.

"Whoa..." Gerald said quietly, "That is some straight shooting."

After a moment of silence, R.J. raised his hand.

Arnold pointed at him. "Yes, R.J."

R.J. stood from his seat, drawing attention to himself. "How is this presidential business at all?"

"I'm the president and it's my business."

"You can't use government positions to further your own personal gain, it's against the law—"

"R.J., sit down and quit being so pretentious."

R.J. looked offended but sat down anyway, his nose in the air.

Arnold turned back to the room at large. "I'm merely saying this because Helga is so_ stubborn_. Hopefully, now that I've also embarrassed myself in front of the whole school, she might understand how serious I am." He turned and locked eyes with Helga, who jumped slightly. "She might actually listen when I say I love her." He looked back at the room. "Thank you." He stepped down from the table and back across the room to the doors, and by the time he reached them, the student body was in an uproar, laughing and pointing and some people clapping and having the general attitude of, "Did that _seriously_ just happen?"

* * *

Arnold got home after practice, feeling completely worn out. He let Abner and the rest of the boarding house pets out before dropping his backpack on the ground and slamming the door. Inside Sunset Arms, orange pumpkins hung across the doorways and spiderwebs covered the pictures on the walls. His grandmother stood on a ladder dressed as a gypsy, a light bulb in her mouth as she installed a black light in the hall.

Iva ran around the corner, dragging a Styrofoam skeleton behind her. She clamped onto Arnold's leg. Phil came by a second later. "Get back here with that, you little imp! Oh, hey, Shortman, how was school?"

"Chaos." He'd spent the morning in excited anxiety, then confessed to, got rejected by, and fought with Helga, which led to the brash decision to announce his love in front of practically everyone he knew. The rest of the day passed by him being followed around and mocked by Wolfgang while he explained to a million people that, no, he had never actually been dating Lila.

Some of his friends had been really surprised, but eventually just shrugged and went along with it, and Stinky said, "Arnold, you're kind of weird guy, has anyone told you that?" When Gerald had found Arnold, he grabbed him by the front of the shirt and said, "You are a bold, bold kid." Phoebe had been so excited she wrapped her arms around Arnold in a hug. "I'm so happy for you two! Helga's waited such a long time," She said, and he had to point out that he and Helga weren't together, and she only replied, "Not _yet_." At practice, Moze gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. Then Teri gave him a nuggie, and Lenny offered to let Arnold borrow his lucky baseball card, which he believed had the power to remedy any situation.

Arnold had only seen a glimpse of Helga the rest of the day, down a hall as he passed. They made eye contact through the crowd, and he tried really hard to decipher what she was thinking before they each turned away to go to class. He thought the idea to tell everyone that he loved Helga might not have been the best decision ever, but he didn't regret it. He was glad he had, and he didn't feel bad about using the "L" word, either. He did love her. He just hoped that Helga wasn't too put off by him coming on so strongly. Well, she had come on to him strongly, too, but still. Sometimes she was easily scared off, and he didn't understand why she had freaked out so bad the first time he said he liked her.

"Grandpa," Arnold picked up Iva from his leg and handed the skeleton back to Phil, "What do I do if I tried picking up some of the pieces and I made it worse?"

"Worse, eh?" Phil rubbed his chin with the skeleton hand. "Well, if you're trying to fix it and it just doesn't want to be fixed, there's not a whole lot you can do. But maybe you're thinking about it wrong—big messes like this take two people to clean up."

"Two?"

"Sure. You can't be doing all the work yourself—takes teamwork! Isn't that right, Pookie?"

Gertrude had climbed down the ladder and was now holding a tambourine that she shook in the air. "Two halves make a whole!" She danced into the other room.

"Heh heh, there you have it. You keep on working on your half, and if you're lucky, maybe she'll start picking up her half."

Arnold nodded, thinking about this. He turned to go up to his room, still carrying Iva, who was tugging on his hair.

"Oh, Arnold, are you still going to that party tonight?"

It was the Sunset Arms annual Halloween party that night, no kids allowed. Lorenzo, the school party animal, was throwing a Halloween party at his mansion that night and all the neighborhood kids were going. Arnold had been thinking about going before, but didn't know if he felt up to it now. Gerald had offered to stay home with Arnold, to hang around and keep him company, but Arnold had told him to go with Phoebe and have fun. "I don't think so, Grandpa. Don't worry, I'll stay upstairs, though."

"All right, suit yourself. But if you get hungry, come down and have some food. I'll allow it." Phil winked at his grandson.

Arnold smiled. "Thanks, Grandpa." Then he headed upstairs.

He stopped by the Kokoshkas' room to drop Iva off, and Oskar said when he saw her, "Oh, thank you, Arnold, I didn't even know she was missing."

Then Arnold went up to his room, closed the door behind him, and flopped onto his bed. He closed his eyes with a sigh. Takes two to clean up, does it? Hmm. He wondered if Helga even wanted to pick up the pieces. He had been so confused when she rejected him earlier—what had that been about? Maybe it was his fault; maybe with Helga, it was better to go slow and take things easy. He didn't mind that much, he would wait, but he couldn't help wondering how much time it would take before she was ready to start picking up pieces.

A knock disturbed his thoughts, but it wasn't a knock on the door. He opened his eyes, confused, and looked up through his glass ceiling. Helga looked in through the clear paneling. When she saw she had his attention, she motioned for him to come up. Arnold shot up from the bed and climbed the ladder to the roof, so eager that he accidentally missed a step and bumped his head against the shelves on the wall. He pushed the glass latch open and climbed onto the roof, rubbing his head, and landed eyes on Helga.

"Hi." She said, looking uncomfortable.

"Hi." He said back, a little breathless.

"Sorry, uh, that I'm on your roof."

Arnold shook his head. "That's fine. You can be up here." He paused. "How long have you been up here?"

She shrugged. "Since school got out." He raised his eyebrows; school got out at two thirty, and it was now almost six and the sun was starting to set. She added defensively, "I needed time to think."

"All right." At least it was a rather warm day today. "Have you—"

She pointed at him. "Ah, no! Stop talking."

He shut his mouth.

"Come here," She led the way to where Gertrude kept her grand piano. It was covered in a thick piano case to protect it from the fall weather, but the piano bench was free and Helga gestured to it. "Sit."

He sat obediently and looked up at her.

"Ok." She pulled on the hem of her jacket and cleared her throat. "I love you."

He smiled a little. "Yes."

"No, don't talk! I worked on this!"

"Sorry."

She started again, "I love you, and I've been in love with you for a really long time. Pretty much forever. Sorry if that's weird. But I'm tired of running away and hiding it and of making everyone think I don't like you, because it's stupid and it gives me a headache. I never told you before, because, well, you probably would have laughed at me. And then I moved, and I missed you _so_ much, but I got over you and moved on, but then I moved back and _that_ was awkward as heck. But I thought I would just be New Helga, and maybe I could be your polite acquaintance, or friend, or whatever, but, of course, you made that totally impossible because you're just so freakin' _adorable_, and I realized that I still loved you anyway, and then it got all tense and weird, and I'm sorry about fighting and almost kissing you in your room last week, and I'm sorry I freaked out at the dance.

"I was just barely getting to a point where I was accepting that fact that it was ok to be in love with you and I didn't have to hide it when everything blew up, and I think that's part of the reason I freaked out earlier today. I was trying really hard to accept my own feelings, and I was bracing myself for you to reject me, and when you said you liked me, I seriously thought you were off your rocker, because, honestly, that's flat out crazy. It threw me off, and I didn't even know what to do, because the thought that you actually liked me had never even crossed my mind. Sure, I had _wished_ you would like me, but I thought that's all it was: wishful thinking. I was totally prepared to spend the rest of my life in love with you while you never loved me back."

"But I do love you." Arnold said.

She pointed at him. "See! That's exactly what I'm talking about! That's crazy! Didn't all that stuff about stalking you and collecting your stuff weird you out?"

He shrugged. "A little. But then I thought it was kind of cute."

She gaped at him. "_Cute_? I was certifiably insane!"

"Maybe. Maybe I'm crazy, too."

"Well. Probably. But, still."

"So that's why you were all against going out with me? You just thought it wasn't possible that I actually liked you?"

"Pretty much."

"So...will you go out with me now?"

She shuffled, uncomfortable. "I don't know."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm a coward, obviously!" She started pacing. "I mean, I bullied you for years because I was afraid of rejection. You might like me, sure, maybe even love me, but I know for_ sure_ I love you way more. What if we start going out, and it doesn't work, so you break up with me? I really don't think I could handle that. I would much rather be rejected now, than be in a relationship with you and have it fall to pieces, or have my heart totally crushed when you break up with me. Besides, you seriously don't want to be in a relationship with me, because I would be awful at it. I'm emotionally retarded, I make fun of you all the time, I get crazy jealous, I'm closed off, and I have commitment issues! And I'm terrified of relationships, since I don't know what a good one looks like, and all of the examples in my life are terrible. My parents are so messed up—half the time, I wonder why they even got married. It is better now, but they still fight, and they have so many issues, and I don't want to live my life like that. If we ended up like them, I'd probably kill myself. And my sister? Don't even get me started. She and her husband are all cuddly and calling each other 'schmookie poo' and 'my lovely honey pie' and rubbing noses in _public_. Yeah! They do! And I'm just _not _that. When I was younger, sure, I imagined us being all cutsie and saying 'you're the queen of my heart' and crap like that, but if that's what a relationship is, I don't want it, and, frankly, I would just let you down, anyway!"

"Helga, that's not—"

"It is, and so maybe it would be better if we just—" She stopped when he abruptly stood up and took her by the shoulders.

"You're not _listening_ to me again." He turned her around and sat her on the bench. "My turn to talk. You've been in love with me for years, right? The last thing you have is commitment issues. You do have a hard time talking about your feelings sometimes, but that's ok. That's not a chronic disease, that's something you can actually change, if you want. And I'm glad you get crazy jealous, because you know what? So do I. Being in a relationship doesn't mean we would figure it out right away, or that we have to be ridiculously cuddly, either. We would have to find our own way of doing things that works for us. You might be scared to be in a relationship, but not trying because you're just afraid it might end badly is _wrong_. You could miss out on so much. I'm just as nervous as you are, but I like you too much to quit before we've started. And I swear that we will _never_ end up like your parents."

She stared up at him before looking down with a little smile. "You were always so good at that."

He raised his eyebrows. "Good at what?"

"Making me believe you. I can't tell you how many times I learned a valuable lesson or was able to mend the holes in my life because of your advice or what you told me."

"Really? My advice?"

She looked up at him with a snort. "Of course. I was a bratty, neglected kid who didn't take anyone's crap and didn't know how to connect with people. It's because of what I learned from you that I was able to grow up and reach out and make friends. Do you remember what you said to me the day I moved?"

He shook his head, taking a seat next to her.

"I was boasting it up how I was going to get out of this neighborhood and be so much better off without all you losers and junk, and you just looked at me and said, 'Moving is a good chance for you to be whoever you want to be, because no one there will know the difference. You should try being yourself, Helga. I bet the kids at your new school will like you just as much as I do.'"

"I said that?"

"Yep. You were the first person that expected me to be myself—not a bully, not Olga. Just me. You did a lot for me. You still do. You just made my life...better."

She didn't look at him and her cheeks were a bit pink, and Arnold smiled at her, feeling a tug on his heart. "You know, you made my life better, too."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, I did not. I made your life miserable."

"Sometimes. Other times I came across problems that I never could have handled if you hadn't helped me. And now, looking back knowing that you liked me, I suspect there's even more things you did for me that I never knew about. Remember that day just after fourth grade where we were sitting on my front stoop, eating the Jolly Olly man's ice cream and watchin' everybody else play baseball?"

"Yeah."

"And you ribbed me about my parents being gone?"

"Erk!" She looked guilty. "Yeah..."

"But then you told me that, no matter what, you'd be there for me." He looked at her fondly. "That meant a lot to me. I'm not really sure why, because at the time I had my friends and my grandparents, and my family in the boarding house, but once in a while, when I was having a bad day, I'd remember that you said you'd be there for me. And even though I never saw you, I believed you. It made me feel good to know there was someone out there who would come if I called. "

"Well, good. 'Cause I was serious, and I would have come running."

"I know." He smiled. "I think that just made it all the better when you came back. I was half in love with you already, and it didn't take much for me to fall the rest of the way. I think if you hadn't moved then, it would only have been a short amount of time before we got together."

"What? You think so?"

"Yeah."

She looked skeptical. "I dunno, I had a lot of growing up to do. Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that jazz."

"Ha, maybe you're right. But we have a lot of lost time to make up for, then." He stood, glancing up at the twilit sky, before turning back and holding a hand out to her. "We're going out tonight."

"What? Where?"

"I don't care. Nowhere, anywhere. But we're going together."

"Hmph. Sounds like the blind leading the blind." But she took his hand anyway and stood next to him, her fingers intertwined in his. "Lead the way, Stevie Wonder."

"We can go to Lorenzo's party—you'd love his house. It has twenty three bedrooms, two pools, and this huge diamond chandelier."

"Are you serious?" She demanded. "What the heck are we still doing here?"

He laughed. She smiled back at him, for the first time since she'd been there, and it made him so happy to see it that he leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. He pulled back to see that her smile had fallen and she was staring at him. "Sorry," He said, "Too soon?"

She reached up with her free hand, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him. It took Arnold less than a second to reciprocate. She was warm in the cool October night—he had goose bumps, but it wasn't because of the cold. After a minute she moved away, breathless, but he pulled her back, muttering a quick, "Wait, wait," and kissed her again. She let go of his hand and wrapped both arms around his neck and he held her tight around the waist. They bumped noses once or twice, but neither minded. Only when they were really desperate for air did they pull away, but they stayed close. Arnold gently leaned his forehead against hers and she smiled at him blissfully before giving him a little kiss on the nose.

"Kissing noses in _public_?" Arnold teased in a low voice.

"Shut up, football head, and kiss me again."

"Whatever you say." He leaned in, only to be startled when he heard a loud crash. He turned towards his room, only to see the Sunset Arms borders duck out of sight.

"Dang it!" Came Ernie's voice from below, "You totally pushed me off that ladder! Hyunh, scoot over!"

"It was not me, it was you!" Hyunh said.

"Shush, ya bunch of idiots!" Phil whispered harshly.

Helga, quite literally, turned beet red and backed away from Arnold, her hands in the air like she'd just been caught stealing. Arnold felt the embarrassment bubbling up inside of him, quickly being overpowered by anger. "_What_ are you guys doing?"

Phil, Hyunh, and Oskar slowly peeked over the edge of the roof. "Oh, heya, Shortman. We, uh, didn't see you up there."

"Are you kidding me?" Arnold demanded, his cheeks flushed. "Can I not have even a _little_ privacy?"

"Well, sure you can, Arnold, we just needed some quick pictorial evidence."

"You needed _what_?"

Hyunh waved a camera guiltily, and Phil said, "Heh heh, well, you see, we had to get a picture to prove who won the bet."

"What bet?"

"The bet on whether or not you two would get together. We've been waiting for _years_." He turned to Oskar. "Looks like you owe me back my fifty bucks, Kokoshka."

Oskar waved his hand, "Oh, Grandpa, we made that bet so long ago! We didn't even know that was the same girl. Can't we just forget it?"

"Heck no, you cockroach, I want my fifty bucks back!"

"How about an IOU?"

The men were all pushed aside as Gertrude made her way to the top of the ladder. "Oh, there you two are! I've been looking all over for you—I've got your costumes all ready for your party!"

"How did you know she was here?" Hyunh asked Gertrude as Phil tried to strangle Oskar.

Gertrude tapped the side of her nose. "The nose knows."

Arnold was horrified. He turned to Helga, having no idea how to apologize for his family. He was surprised to see her laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" He asked.

She shook her head, "I don't know, ha ha! You have _no_ idea how long I've waited for this!"

He smiled and took her hand again.

"Hey, Arnold!" Phil called, "Kiss her again, real quick for the camera!"

"What?"

A small chant of "Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her" started among the boarders and Hyunh held up his camera. Arnold looked at Helga, who was still chuckling. "Better make it a good one," She said.

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am." He pulled her close and kissed her for the first of many future kisses while the cameras flashed and his families cheers echoed across the rooftops of Hillwood.

* * *

A/N: It's over! Hopefully you enjoyed it! Thanks for all your support and everything!


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